A Story of Soldiers and Saviors
by RivalsAreAllies
Summary: They are the children of the world's greatest heroes. Some of them were captured. Some of them were rescued. But they were all turned into little soldiers. They were all taught, trained, and tempered to be victorious, to follow orders. Now, these ten teens will make their first decision on their own. They will become something more than soldiers. They will become saviors.
1. Doomsday

**_Disclaimer: _****I do NOT own Marvel Comics, or anything affiliated with said franchise, merchandise, literature, film, or other media. But, if I did, I would sell a SH*T-TON of comics (I hope)!**

**_Before-You-Read Background:_**** This BOLD, "_Pre-Story Pretext_," is my important, intrinsic, "_Before-You-Read Background,_" and these "_Before-Chapter-Author-Notes_," will almost ALWAYS contain UPPER-CASE Letters, of SOME sort. Proper grammar, and other things are used CORRECTLY in these "Pretext Prologues," though. …And while you should know that, you should also know that the ACTUAL STORY WILL contain GREAT spelling, grammar, punctuation, usage-and-mechanics, syntax, and semantics. Reading/RETAINING the NEXT portion of BOLDED text of IMPORTANT INFORMATION is HIGHLY RECOMMENDED! By stating the important information below, it will make this FanFic immensely more entertaining/enjoyable. Also, I am NOT insulting ANY reader's intelligence/intellect, OR, any reader's knowledge, or know-how of "_The Marvel-MultiVerse_," by explaining/elaborating on the following facts. I am simply giving the reader necessary information that he/she NEEDS in-order to properly understand my FanFic. I have read almost ANY/ALL of any-such-mentioned Marvel, AND/OR, DC Comics, and I LOVE superheroes (AND supervillains)! I mean, who doesn't? We love them, because we live though them. We live vicariously through them. They do things that we WISH we could do! It's the truth. The best part about comics, movies, films, books, media, and FANTASY, in-general, is that we can live-out our greatest fantasies, hopes, and dreams, WITHOUT EVER getting hurt or wounded! My FAVORITE superhero of ALL-TIME is a toss-up, between the following (Secret Identity Is In Parenthesis, Beside Name—If There Are Multiple Names In Parenthesis, Then It Means That ALL Of Those Characters Took-Up That Superhero-Name/Alias At One Point): BatMan (Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Terry McGinnis—Batman Is Just SOOO Great! …I Mean, He Has NO Superpowers, Yet Can Go Toe-To-Toe With Superman—Thus Awesome!); Green Lantern (Alan Scott, Hal Jordan, Guy Gardener, John Stewart, Kyle Rayner); Flash (Jay Garrick, Barry Allen, Wally West, Bart Allen, Iris West); SuperGirl (Kara Zor-El); Green-Arrow/Red-Arrow/Speedy (Oliver Queen, Roy Harper, Connor Hawke, Mia Dearden); Black Lightning (Jefferson Pierce); Lightning (Jennifer Pierce); Spider-Man (Peter Parker); The Human Torch (Johnny Storm); Wolverine (James "Logan" Howlett); DareDevil (Matthew "Matt" Murdock); and IronMan (Tony Stark). Supervillains are important as well, though! They give us an interesting, and very relatable foil, both to ourselves, and to our heroes. The Joker is DEFINITELY my MOST-FAVORITE Super villain (His Mind Is Just SOOO Great To Look At! Once Again, He Has NO Superpowers, Yet He Can Bring The Country To Its Knees!—Thus Awesome!). Other memorable supervillains include (for me): DeathStroke (Slade Wilson—A.K.A. JUST "Slade," In The Show, "_Teen Titans_"); Vandal Savage (Vandar Adg); Darkseid (Prince Uxas of "Planet _Apokolips_"); Venom (Eddie Brock); Carnage (Cletus Cassidy); and Dr. Doom (Victor Von Doom). One of my MOST-FAVORITE comic book characters of ALL-TIME, though, would HAVE to be Dick Grayson; he is just a legend. Also, don't be surprised of you see some other OCs, as well as some old faces (*Hint-Hint, Nudge-Nudge*) in this FanFic. Also, please note that this Fic takes-place in a new "dark," "days-of-destruction," kind of future world, which takes place, in the FUTURE of the "_Marvel Comics-MAIN-Universe_."**

**_IMPORTANT INFO: _****Most people haven't read nearly as many comics, as I have. That is why ANY AND ALL of ANY of my comic-based FanFics are made VERY EASY to understand, so that even a "NON-Comics-Reader," can pick-it-up fairly easily. The ages of ANY/ALL characters described in this story and/or work of FanFiction is, COMPLETELY IN-LINE and/or IN-ACCORDANCE with Marvel Comics' MAINSTREAM CONTINUITY/UNIVERSE (This "Continuity/Universe" Is The Timeline, That Encompasses Most, And/or ANY/ALL, Of The Events, That Occur, In The Marvel-Comics'-MAIN-Universe, Which Is ONLY ONE Of MANY, Universes, In The Multi-World "_Marvel-MultiVerse_," And The "_MultiVerse_," Is The Term Which Is Used To Describe The COLLECTIVE COMBINATION Of Marvel Comics' MANY DIFFERENT, PARALLEL Worlds/Universes). This FanFiction, is-based-on/takes-place-in, the FUTURE, of The "MAIN-Marvel-Universe," (ONE, Of MANY Universes, In "The Marvel-MultiVerse"). ALL of the "_Cannon Characters_" (Characters, Villains, Heroes, Or Other Supporting Characters That Marvel Comics Has Created, And Own The Rights To) are JUST as Marvel Comics' depicted them, and I have done my very best to keep them VERY IN-CHARACTER in this story! Those characters that are NOT in Marvel Comics' MAIN-STREAM-Universe, BUT who ARE in Marvel Comics' MultiVerse, HAVE BEEN ADDED INTO THIS STORY, AND I HAVE USED THEIR BACK-STORY FROM the world/universe that THEY ORIGINATED FROM in THIS STORY! I have simplified this story as much as I could, so as to NOT CONFUSE ANYBODY (Even People Who Have NEVER READ A SINGLE COMIC Should Be Able To Understand, Comprehend, And Follow This Story VERY EASILY). There will NOT be many characters that are not well-known here, and those are not well-known will be PROPERLY, and/or adequately described, introduced, and characterized. I have also CREATED, and introduced, MY OWN PERSONAL characters, that I have thought-up myself (Called OCs, Or "_Original Characters_") into this story. As for the ages, the ages are done, presented, and/or, calculated with a SIGNIFICANT AMOUNT OF RESEARCH, WORK, AND CALCULATIONS! They are all (For The Most-Part), COMPLETELY and UTTERLY CORRECT! So, this story, which takes place in a "_Deep-And-Dark_," Future World of Marvel comics, is, and should be, fairly accurate in its writing and portrayal.**

**_NOTABLE NOTES/NOTICE: _****Peter Parker, A.K.A.: "_SpiderMan_," has ORGANIC webbing, in this story, INSTEAD of his usual "_Web-Synthesizing-Gadgets_." He has gained this ability, here in MY STORY/FanFic, in a situation—a situation CREATED/CONSTRUCTED, by ME—called the "_Symbiote Sickness_," and that will be elaborated/explained later on.**

**_Author's Amendment: _****…ANYWAYS… …I hope that any and all of you read and enjoy this work of FanFiction, and I also hope that I get some REVIEWS! I would greatly appreciate your opinion and/or review of this story (or any other story of mine you happen to find yourself interested in), as I take every last review and comment into account, in order to make it a more enjoyable experience for everyone reading it. ENJOY!**

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><p><strong>A Story of Soldiers and Saviors<strong>

**A FanFic By: D. Raj David**

* * *

><p><strong>I. Doomsday<strong>

Death drifted densely throughout the air. The heroes in the room were alive, but they _felt _dead.

Logan paced around the large steel table, and Peter's heartfelt hazel eyes followed him endlessly. All the years of watching him in action—of fighting side-by-side with him, of getting under his skin, of seeing his strategy, strength, and skill—made Peter consider that this was all a dream, because the confident, cool, collected—albeit sometimes angry—Logan that always showed up for a fight was _not _this Logan that was pacing around this table.

James "Logan" Howlett, for the first time in many years, was in the same position as his allies, as his friends, as the "useless bug," that he had tried, on so many occasions before, to squash from existence. But Peter was a resilient bug, and he wasn't so easy to squash. He only hoped that his daughter was just as strong, just as resilient. And, deep down, he hoped the same was true for Logan's son, for _all _of the children of the heroes that were gathered around this ominous and terrible table before him.

Professor Charles Xavier, Doctor Anthony Stark, Doctor Reed Richards, and Doctor Peter Parker stood, all hopelessly huddled around a spherical holographic map of the earth that was projected upward from the sturdy steel table in the center of the drab, dull, and sickeningly silver, steel-feeling room in the center of the "_Baxter Building_."

The map was painted with numerous scarlet red dots—dots that marked locations where the heroes that where gathered around the table had already torn apart, piece by piece, looking for their children that had been missing for years. The children of the world's greatest heroes had been taken directly from the sanctity of Professor Xavier's "_X-Mansion_," and the invasion of their privacy, the intrusion upon their own territory, the cynically sick and sadistic way that captors of the children had sliced through the security of the X-Mansion was incredible—and _insulting_.

The silent, sad, and still statures of the heroes that were gathered around the table silently spoke, and it spoke of a sad story, indeed.

For years and years these great heroes, these great leaders, these well-respected men and women—some of them pure, cold-blooded killers—had been searching, scouring, and scavenging around the globe for any sign of their children. Although they had found much information and intelligence that was very useful and helpful, they were no closer to finding their children than they had been years ago. Logan's "_Scent Searches_," while extremely efficient in the past, had yielded nothing now. Someone was hiding the scent of the children, and only a fatal few could accomplish this. Those fatal few called themselves "_Lethal Lupines_."

Johnny Blaze looked around the table, and he wanted disparately to sigh, but he had long since given up the action of sighing. Johnny Blaze was the one known as Ghost Rider, and while his own offspring wasn't stolen, the fact that he had been called in to aid and assist the heroes who had in fact had their children taken was simply a testament to how dark and depressingly doubtful the situation was. He would have happily offered his help sooner—had he not been imprisoned in "_Hell's Heat_"—literally.

Blaze's reddish-blond hair was a chaotic carefree mess—as was the rest of the heroes' hair. They had more important tasks to worry with, rather than styling their hair. Tony's black hair, Peter's brown hair, the blond hair of Steve Rogers, the bold black hair of James Howlett, Reed's brown hair, Johnny Storm's blond hair, the austere auburn hair of Natalia Romanova, Felicia's frayed frost-white hair, Sue Storm's bright blonde hair, and the bright black hair of Logan's mate—Heather Howlett— were _all _monstrous messes.

Blaze's brutal blue eyes swiftly scanned the group around him, and he met each and every eye of the men and women around him. Noticing the familiar sight of strewn scarlet hair, Blaze realized that he had failed to make eye contact with everyone. Mary Jane Watson-Parker was the only person with whom he did not experience eye contact with. Her emerald eyes were locked solely on the object of her heated hatred—Felicia Hardy. The two teenagers in the room—the daughters of Reed Richards and Tony Stark—were the only two beings who were not graced with the guilty glare of Blaze's brutal eyes.

Heather Howlett looked across the table towards Felicia Hardy, and her own emotionless expression was mirrored in the face across the table. Felicia noticed the woman's stare, and she hesitantly and half-heartedly smiled in return. Heather acknowledged the gesture with a subtle silent nod. Heather didn't smile. It was part of the reason that Logan enjoyed—or rather tolerated—her company so much.

Felicia Hardy and Heather Howlett shared an odd relationship, to say the least. To say that they were friends would either have been an understatement or an overstatement; no one was sure which one was truly the case, and no one questioned it. Black Cat, and Fatal Feral, as their hero aliases were known by the general public, were certainly a terrifying two-person team that no one ever wanted to clash with. The wolf would rip someone in half—only after the cat had made said someone wish for the end. Both of their children were two of the many that were missing.

The missing, and potentially powerful, children, that were taken, were abducted by a group who were workers, associated and allied with the "_Power Progeny Program_." This was a program designed to do exactly what the "_Weapon-X Program_" had done: turn its young, uncontrollable, untamed mutants and superhumans into _killers_, into _warriors_, into _weapons_.

Logan gritted his teeth every time he thought of it. He had gone through the exact same thing, just as his wife had. His wife was one, who like himself, had been taught and trained since birth to perform only one action: to _kill_.

Logan still had no true idea of the inner-workings of the Weapon-X Program, which had since been subsequently shutdown. He had no idea, no information, no intelligence that even suggested, let alone stated clearly, why the cruel, clandestine, shadow sectors of the Canadian Government needed such weapons, such warriors as the ones created by the Weapon-X Program.

They had claimed that they were turning mutants into weapons, to be used against other mutants, to help eliminate and exterminate a species of beings that they felt threatened humanity. However, after seeing the good that mutants could accomplish, the "_S.H.I.E.L.D Agency_" had deactivated and decommissioned the Weapon-X Program, and as such, the remaining weapons and warriors were turned into heroes, or otherwise sent to rehabilitation.

The fact that the actual ultimately unified "_Global Government_" of planet Earth not only knew about the Weapon-X Program, but also sheltered and supported it, gave rise to the idea that some of these countries also had something to gain from the program. Logan couldn't help but wonder what the Global Government—the name for the unanimous and universal collaboration of any and all countries around the planet—could possibly gain from guarding a program that constantly engaged in cold and cruel training, teaching, and torturing of innocent children.

There was only one thing that these governments could have gained: more _power_. Power was the one true target of any government, and if that program could have given them more power, then Logan couldn't help but wonder what was so powerful about menacing mutant children—and then it dawned on him.

They weren't the power that the governments sought. These children were the preventers, the protectors that would preserve the world as it was, that would prevent these governments from gaining power—or at least they would soon grow up to be. There was no better way to eliminate and exterminate their enemies, than to turn some into weapons and warriors, and unleash them upon the others—the others that had been bred and born to be heroes.

These murderous mutants, these children, were the future heroes of the world, and training, teaching, and tempering them to eliminate each other was the perfect process to ensure that these future heroes did not interfere with the workings of these governments, these ruthless regimes.

This time was different though. Since those dark and dangerous days for the heroes and superhuman of the Earth, the Global Government had condemned and canceled the support of _any _program that operated in any vaguely similar ways, or that had any vaguely similar interests as the Weapon-X Program.

Thus, the Power Progeny Program was different. Everyone wanted it shutdown. The Global Government had agreed that all beings of earth needed to work together to preserve, protect, and progress the world—the world they saw as the world that gave them all the same existential existence—the world called Earth.

Thus, the fact that this new program, this Power Progeny Program, had defied the will of the general populace of the entire planet of Earth meant one thing: the payoff of this program must have been just as great—if not, greater—as the probable cost for failure. And the cost for failure was a great one. The cost of failure was dealing with the dark, dangerous, and destructive heroes that were gathered around the table in the Baxter Building.

The four geniuses that were gathered around the holographic map were getting tired, and the exhausting and extraneous weeks that they had just been through were doing nothing, but adding to their already unbearably high misery.

Logan couldn't take it anymore.

"Look, bug, I don't have time for all of this garbage! Tell me where the next site is, and I'll hit it _myself_!" he screeched, and Peter instantly whipped his head up to look Logan straight in the eye.

He clenched and unclenched his fists constantly, and he gritted his teeth as hard as he could, trying his best to avoid an angry tone. But he failed.

"Look, _wolf_, we are working as fast as _humanly _possible! If you and your maniac mutant friends want to try to do something that might actually be, oh I don't know, _productive_, then, by all means, go right ahead!" Peter swiftly snapped back. His lack of sleep was getting to him—that and the fact that his daughter was probably being beaten and tortured at this very moment.

Logan precisely popped his killer claws—the ones laced with the immutable, indestructible metal, "_Adamantium_." Everyone around the table saw this action, and they prepared for what came next.

Peter quickly and quietly ejected a solid stream of webbing and wrapped it around his hands. The webbing may have looked weak, but it could have easily contended with Logan's Adamantium claws. The protein that the webbing was made of was five times as strong as steel and stronger and more elastic than the bulletproof material Kevlar.

Peter shot streams of the webs out of his wrists, made of the protein known as "_Paragon Protein,_" and surrounded his fists with the webbing, creating sharp, strong, solid gloves of the protein around his already-clenched fists.

The two heroes—the wolf and the spider—squared off around the table, as they began to circle the other, both preparing to pounce.

They never got the chance, though, as Steve Rogers put his own body between the two adamantly angry adults, and prevented the bloodshed, as Captain America had always done.

"_Enough_!" he commanded, and at the utterance of this statement, he grabbed everyone's attention. "We have much larger problems, than your petty differences! We must—" Steve started, but both Logan and Peter cut off their former leader at the same time.

"_STAY OUT OF IT!_" they both boomed in unison, and for the first time in a very long time, the brave and bold Captain America seemed to shrink back at their commands. Logan and Peter turned back to each other, and before they could act, a cat and wolf were on them.

As Felicia swiftly and silently swept both the firm feet of both, Peter and Logan, from under them—sending them crashing to the floor—Heather ejected two parallel adamantium blades from her forearms and stabbed it right through the center of the sturdy steel table—which immediately got everyone's attention.

Everyone swiftly shifted their view to the two females—everyone including Mary Jane Watson-Parker. She was holding her young son up on her lap, and his affectionate amber eyes and boyish bronze hair was giving the young toddler the perfect air of innocence. Mary Jane was giving Felicia a fatal death stare. The ring on Mary Jane's left ring finger stated obviously enough that she was the wife of Peter Parker, but that did not change the fact that Felicia was the mother of Peter's first child. It also did not change the fact that Mary Jane _hated _Felicia.

As the feet of Logan and Peter went perpendicular to the ground and they fell flat on their faces, Felicia smirked and nodded at Heather, who nodded in return, and addressed the rest of the heroes around her.

"Enough of this. The Captain is right." she stated, and then turned to the three remaining geniuses at the holographic map. "…Well… …What have you found…?" she questioned them cautiously.

Stark nodded, and he answered. "We believe that the children are being held in an underground facility somewhere in northeastern Russia. However, to be completely certain—" Stark stopped, and was simultaneously cut-off by Reed, as he finished his counterpart's statement.

"—But, to be _completely certain_ of their location, we will need the Ghost Rider to give a positive analysis that the area is the source of Jacob's pyrokinetic signature." Reed finished, and across the table, he nodded towards Johnny Blaze, who nodded in return. This was why Blaze was here, to track the trail of Jacob Storm.

Johnny Blaze turned to his right and without saying a word, gestured as gently as he could to Johnny Storm, the man in a seat to his direct right. Storm nodded grimly in response, and he said two simple words, but he had no heart when he said them. He sounded defeated, as all of the heroes had sounded recently.

"Flame on." Storm said indifferently, and almost immediately, his body was engulfed in ferocious flames, and he became The Human Torch once again.

Blaze nodded and closed his eyes, deeply focusing on some distant memory or mindset, before his own body was engulfed in flames as well, and his skin turned to skeleton. The Ghost Rider took a deep sniff of The Human Torch, before turning and giving a nod to Professor Xavier. He had the boy's sear-scent now.

Professor Xavier nodded in response, and he began typing frantically into the computer that had originally sputtered out the image of the holographic Earth. He was getting the coordinates. The professor nodded to the rest of the team, and they nodded in response, all filing out of the oval-shaped and sickeningly silver steel room, only to enter a similarly striking steel hallway. All of the heroes made their way down to the armored armory—to the preparation rooms. They were preparing for their mission.

Kellina and Sarah remained behind. Kellina Stark and Sarah Richards were the only two children of the heroes that were previously in the meeting room, that had _not _been captured or condemned by the Power Progeny Program. They wanted to help, and they were determined to do just that.

Only five people remained in the meeting room after the other heroes had left, and they were all focused on the two young teens as they got ready for the mission that they were sure they were going on.

Two of the people in the room were the girls themselves—Sarah Richards and Kellina Stark. Two of the others were their fathers, Tony Stark and Reed Richards. Sue Richards had gone off with the other heroes to prepare for their mission. The fifth person in the room was Natalia Romanova, better known as the agent-assassin, Black Widow. She was Kellina's master-mentor, during her training, teachings, and tempering, in the S.H.I.E.L.D. Agency.

Black Widow was watching Kellina load, unload, check, weigh, and holster her bullets, blades, and bombs securely on her steely silver uniform. Sarah and Kellina then both tied their hair up in a ponytail and then their combat costumes were complete. They were ready for a fight. Sarah's blonde hair differed amazingly in contrast to Kellina's dark brown hair, but somehow, the two girls seemed to look like they belonged together—perhaps on a team.

Natalia caught Tony's searing stare, as he was scanning between his daughter and Natalia. He didn't like Natalia—especially since Kellina hadn't known her father and mother for a very long time, and had been taught and trained since birth to be the perfect soldier, taught and trained by Natalia herself.

As the two teenage females donned their extremely elastic and amazingly armored costumes—which they carried on them most of the time—their fathers watched them carefully. Finally, Kellina finished loading her pistols, and she holstered all of her weapons, and sheathed all of her blades. Sarah quickly checked her abilities, by teleporting to the far side of the room, and then back again, in a black flash; her dark blue costume with crisscrossing "_M_s" engraved in the front always seemed to look black when she teleported. The girls caught their father's stares, and they both raised an eyebrow at their sustained silences.

Kellina's bright brown eyes and Sarah's dark deep ocean blue eyes seemed to stare not to, but rather through, their fathers as they asked their question.

"…_What?_" they asked in unison.

Reed and Tony both looked at each other and then back at their daughters. Reed went first.

"If you're going, then you stay ten feet behind me—_at all times_. _Understood_?" he asked her, and Sarah sighed in exasperated defeat, but she still nodded. At least he was letting her go. She couldn't fault him for being so overprotective, though. It was how he showed he cared, that he loved her. Tony, on the other hand, was another story.

"Kelly, you're _not _going." he stated plainly.

Kellina scoffed. "Like hell I'm not." she answered back vehemently. She and her father had rocky relationship, to say the least. Her mother, on the other hand, Kellina loved. She also loved her brother, and those two were two of the _very few _people that she could talk to, without vileness or viciousness in her voice.

However, as her mother had gone along with the rest of the heroes to prepare for the mission or wish them luck, and her brother was currently being tortured, tormented, and trained by members of the organization that they were about to battle with, talking nicely to _anyone_ in this room seemed to be out of the question.

Now it was Tony who scoffed. "Your brother has been trained and taught to _kill_. They will likely try to _use_ that _against_ you, use _him_ against you. I do not want—" he started, but here Tony was cut off by his daughter.

"_Now_ you care? Well, it is a tad too late for _that_, father! I did not have a father, until I was old enough to do _without_ one! I do _not_ need _y_our permission, to take on _any_ task! I have never needed it, and I most-certainly do _not_ need it _now_!" Kellina yelled in her viciously vehement voice, and then stormed out of the room, wanting desperately to shoot something. Black Widow went after her. She knew her protégé, and she didn't want her to do anything too destructive or damaging.

Sarah just looked up at her father, and sighed. "I guess that this is a bad time to tell you that Kelly hasn't been doing so well in anger management." Sarah voiced, and her father chuckled, while Tony just sighed very deeply.

This was going to be a long day, and it was just getting started. One thing was certain, though. Those whom these heroes had their sights set on, were about to meet their doom. It was their doomsday.

**A/N: Please R&R and let me know what you thought! Stay tuned for the next update!**


	2. Before the Battle

**_Disclaimer: _****I do not own Marvel Comics, or anything associated with said franchise.**

**_Author Apologies(s): _****PLEASE, read ANY AND ALL of the following BOLDED text! Wow. Well, first of all, it has been a long time. I am so very sorry for the ridiculously-late response/update. I was caught-up with real-life, for a while (Baseball, Track-And-Field, Graduation, College Finalizations, Etc.), and my FIRST thought was to keep-track-of, and respond to any and all of the outstanding message-conversations that I have on this here site—and update any and all of my existing FanFictions. However, just as I got back on this site, I realized something: I have been reviewing/revising/re-writing my FanFictions, BEFORE I upload/update them, but it was NEVER ANYWHERE CLOSE to how much I NEEDED To review/revise/re-write them! ...So, I STARTED reviewing, revising, and rewriting ANY AND ALL of my FanFictions, and just when I was about HALF-WAY through doing that (I Have OVER 200,00 WORDS Published/Posted On This Godforsaken Site! Do You Know How LOOOOOONG That Takes To Review/Revise/Rewrite?! VERY LONG!), and about to respond to any and all of my messages, when my life fell apart—literally.**

**Between psychotic breaks, episodic events, and metal crazes, (All Of Which Were Caused By My Life, That Just Happened To Turn Super-Sucky), I was, well, incapacitated.**

**You don't need an excuse. But, you do deserve one.**

**The good news (For EVERYONE) is the following. Writing my OWN ORIGINAL Books-Series (There Are FOUR, SEPARATE, UN-Related, Book-Series, And Hopefully, I Will Have A Literary Agent/Publishing-Deal, In A Year, OR Two! …On The SLIM Chances That Is DOES Actually Occur, Or Happen…), looking for agents, looking-into-querying, and FAN-FICTION have become my outlet! ...So, my depressing life will make for AWESOME FanFiction, with HAPPY undertones (But, My Stories/FanFictions Will STILL Have Character-Deaths [Well, SOME], Gore, Blood [NOT TOO Much, Though], Romance, And NO OOC-Ness, OR Mary-Sues, Mind-You!).**

**I have JUST finished-up reviewing/revising/rewriting my CURRENTLY-POSTED chapters of any and all Fan Fictions, and today is the day that I shall be updating ANY AND ALL of my FanFictions. And, also, today is also the day, that I will-be starting three NEW FanFictions, and they will be the LAST FanFictions that I will EVER start—unless, I decide to do a cross-over, between my DC-Comics-FanFiction, and my MARVEL-Comics-FanFiction (BOTH, The MARVEL-FanFiction, AND, The DC-Fan Fiction, Features A Teenage, Next-Gen-Hero-Team, So Having Them Team-Up In A Cross-Over Would Be Kind-Of Cool. …But, IF I Do That Cross-Over, Then That Definitely Would Be The LAST Fan Fiction That I EVER START!)! For a timeline of future updates you should know this: "_I Will NOT Cancel ANY Of My FanFictions!_" I WILL FINISH THEM ALL! …If you wish to have a better idea of how often updates will be coming, though, I have FOUR FanFictions that take precedent over my others, and as such, those four will probably be updated faster than others. You should all note, however, that I WILL be updating ANY AND ALL of my FanFictions! However, I am unsure, as to how long each update will take, so PLEASE HAVE PATIENCE! So, to keep-up with the updates, PLEASE, subscribe to me/my-story, favorite me/my-story, or message me and ask me to personally message you whenever I DO update, and I will HAPPILY do so!**

**_Author Advertisement(s): _****That's right. Ads. I have TWELVE—Count-'Em, TWELVE—FanFictions On here, that will ALL end-up, being OVER 100K-Words, and they will ALL be updated REGULARLY—HOPEFULLY—from this point-on. …So, if you happen to read in any of the OTHER FanFic FanDoms, that I write for, then, PLEASE, by all means, do NOT hesitate to check-out some of my OTHER FanFictions! Check-out my profile for more information (And Some Awesome Quotes, As Well!), and MESSAGE ME, if you have ANY questions, or just want to chat! I, contrary to popular belief, LOVE to hear from fellow FanFiction-Readers, as-well-as, my own readers! …Also, it should be noted, that ANY AND ALL of my Comic-Based-FanFictions, are VERY EASY to understand, and they are MADE for EVEN a NOVICE/NON-Comics-Reader, to be able to understand VERY EASILY, and things are explained VERY clearly in these above-mentioned Comic-Based-FanFictions, of my own creation.**

**_Important Information:_**** This FanFiction, is-based-on/takes-place-in, the FUTURE, of The "MAIN-MARVEL-Universe," (ONE, Of MANY Universes, In "The MARVEL-MultiVerse"). …And, also, you should all note that ANY AND ALL of the "separate-stories," in this FanFic will eventually TIE-IN TOGETHER, and they will ALL flow chronologically, and in TIME-ORDER, and thus these "events," or "separate-stories," are actually ALL LINKED-TOGETHER, and they ALL happen, IN THE ORDER that they are written/read. Also, PLEASE NOTE, that regardless of how many characters make "Guest-Appearances" here, this story WILL focus on the "Teenage-Team," of OCs that that I have created here (or will create soon-enough)…and it will also focus on their mentors, and the HUGE plot. Also, PLEASE NOTE, that this chapter IS VERY LONG, most chapters will be UNDER 7,000 words, so please do NOT fret about that, and know that any and all of the chapters following this will become WAY MORE READABLE!**

**_Accolades/Appreciation: _****Thanks for ANY/ALL of the reviews! I really appreciate them, and I take them all into account. Don't stop now, though! ONWARD!**

**II. Before the Battle**

Wars were waged. Wars were won. Today, though, no war would come. Today, only destruction would come. One side would fight, and the other would not. The side that would fight, though, would be fighting themselves. Today, no war would be waged. Today, an extermination would occur—an extermination of heroes.

Fear filled the room. The three men in lab coats, huddled around the computer, concentrated on the important information on the screen. The screen silently stated fundamental facts about each and every one of the fatal five teens that these men had pushed, progressed, and perfected from an early age—to be able kill. These teens had been captured at the age of nine years, and since that time, they had been taught, trained, and tempered to kill—and to _survive_. The results were incredible. Their mental magnitudes, physical prowess, and emotional endurance were all amazing—and well-beyond _anything _that had been seen before, especially at their ages.

They had been brainwashed, since before they were even preteens, to believe that there was a single rule, a rule that governed the universe. That rule was simple one; that rule stated that the strong lived, and the weak died. These children did not die. They were not going to die. They would kill first.

They had been told that their parents—the ones that the world believed to be heroes—were truly feeble, worthless, weak-willed individuals that had taken power that they did not deserve, and as such had used these powers to enforce, ensnare, and execute people as they saw fit.

The teens were informed that these heroes—any and all of them, The Avengers, The X-Men, The Fantastic Four, The Young Allies, and many others—were simply stealing the trust of the people, and using it to enforce their own wills over society, to better themselves—and only themselves.

These five teens were told that these heroes were acting in cowardly ways, and as such, they were allowing weakness to reign—and weakness was not supposed to reign. Weakness upset "the balance of the world." These five teenagers were taught these facts, and they were trained, taught, and tempered to _eliminate _such "threats," to the "balance of the world."

They had been designed to become the perfectly progressed warriors—the perfect _weapons_. The screen showed the statistics of the children, and it elaborately explained the skills, strengths, and senses of each and every one of the teens.

Throughout the years, the Power Progeny Program had been removed, relocated, and repositioned all over the planet to prevent the searching saviors and heroes from locating the children. Currently, they were in northern Russia. The location in the cold, closed-off, terrain of rough Russia seemed to be perfectly tempered to train the children in extremely cold conditions.

The three men heard a loud cough clearly emitted from behind them, and the three quickly whipped around to see their sinister superiors standing there—_expectantly_. The two men had silently slipped into the room, and none of the three men at the computer had noticed. The obviously-open sliding steel door behind the two silent men was the point in the room, that the two men had expertly entered through. The silent steel room had now had the atmosphere of a dark, dangerous, and slightly doomed, situation.

The three men at the computer were slightly startled by the entrance of the two men. They did not like their company.

A man with brutally brown eyes, bashful brown hair, and four fatal mechanical arms surgically singed into his back stood silently. He was exactly, equally, and evenly, matched—physically and mentally—with his partner, who stood beside him. A massively muscular man—one with no discernable irises or pupils in his wicked white eyes, bold, blitzed, black hair with white streaks on his ponytail, and claws on the tiny tips on his fingers—stood beside his equal partner.

The man with the mechanical arms spoke first. "Where do we stand?" he asked aptly.

"…W-We were r—" one of the three men began speaking softly, but was immediately interrupted by the second superior man, the one with the claws.

"Speak soundly. If you fear death so very much, then it would do you well to articulate _audibly_. My patience is pathetic." the second superior responded, and the man he had addressed nodded. He began speaking again.

"The analysis is complete. The teens are ready for the test. The Stark child is the most intelligent. The Storm child is the most aptly able, to use his abilities without drawback. The Rogers child is the swiftest, and most sensible." the man addressed his superiors.

"…And, what of the wolf and the spider…?" the mechanical-armed man inquired intricately.

"…They are—" the man responded, before one of the other three terrified men readily responded in his place.

"Parker and Howlett are the strongest, swiftest, and most skilled, of the five. They have progressed perfectly, and they too appear ready for the test." the second scientist replied rightfully.

"I assume, then, that they are ready for 'the transformation,' as well." the second muscular man asked. The three scientists nodded.

"Good. Initiate the starting sequence. Once they are rightfully ready, have them test their abilities—_against each other_." the mechanical-armed man stated solemnly. The three scientists nodded.

The mechanical-armed man opened his mouth to speak again, but he was immediately interrupted by the obvious opening of the door behind them. The five men turned around to face the newcomer. The man had furious fire-red hair and experienced emerald eyes. His expression displayed one fact considerably clearly. He was a killer. His massive musculature and swift steps stated simply that he was a skilled soldier. He erratic eyes said that he was insane, and that he was honestly happy with his psychosis.

The man chuckled as he spoke directly to the mechanical-armed man. "The parents are arriving. They'll be here pretty soon, Doc." the muscled man addressed the mechanical-armed man known as Doc.

Doc nodded. "Thank you, Mister Cassidy." he said solemnly. He then turned back to the red-haired psycho. Before Doc could utter a single word, though, another door behind him slid silently open, as a lithe form entered the room.

The newcomer was a female, with a lethally lithe form.

"Ah, Yuriko, it is nice of you to join us. The parents are on their way. You know what that means, do you not?" Doc asked the woman.

Yuriko nodded. "I get to gut Howlett. …And her husband." she said vehemently, a slight Japanese accent tinting her words.

The man next to Doc smiled sinisterly. "Yes, yes you will. Of course, you will _not _kill her. The heroes must live through this encounter. This is only a test. If you kill her—if the heroes fail—then _you_ fail the test. And, if you fail the test, then _we _fail the test. And I do _not _fail. Do you understand, Yuriko?" the muscular man asked her.

"Of course, Romulus. I understand. I shall not kill her. There are, after all, things far worse than death…" Yuriko replied, trailing off, and extending her adamantium-laced claws from her fine fingertips.

The red-haired psycho smirked sinisterly at this action. "Damn, honey. You can cut me up, anytime. Pain is pleasure—especially when the person receiving the pain gets to look at a face like _that_." he said smugly, gesturing to her feminine form.

The fatal female turned to the psychotic murderer. "You are insane. I would not cut you up. I would simply rip your spine from your body and beat you with it. Death is too quick. When the enemy dies, the killer must remain in the minds of the enemy's allies. Death does not place you in their minds. Torture does. Pain does. Pain is one thing that the mind cannot ignore—ever. …And, when you live in your opponents mind, you live forever." she replied.

The psycho smiled. "Honey, you've been in my mind all day, but it sure wasn't pain bringing you there. Death is death. It happens whether we like it, or not. Speeding-up the inevitable is simply a way to get to your destination faster, and I'm all about speed—except, of course, in bed." he responded, winking at her.

She scoffed. "You would not survive the night." she said, smiling seductively.

He laughed. "I'd die happy then." he responded.

She raised an eyebrow. "You truly are insane." she commented in reply.

He shrugged, and responded, "Yeah, well you know what they say about psychosis. It's contagious." he said, smiling smugly.

She smirked. "You cannot catch what you already have." she said, winking in return.

The two psychotic killers halted their flirting conversation—or, rather, their threatening conversation, as it was truly unclear what they intended to do to one another—when Doc cleared his throat. The two crazed killers turned to face the man.

"The parents will be here, shortly. Carnage, and Lady Deathstrike, you two are superiorly skilled in your areas of expertise—in _preserving _your _own _life, while _ending _the lives of _others_. Today, you will use those skills. You will end the lives of our enemies, and you will shatter their worlds, but you will not kill them. You will show them what we are capable of, and as such, we will show them that we do not have to kill them, nor do we wish to, as _we _are in _control_. The ones in control are the strong ones, and the strong kill the weak. You will show these heroes just how strong we are, and we will demonstrate our strength, by killing them mentally, while leaving them alive _physically_. You will do this, because it is logical, and logic—as we _all know_—is the only thing that we have left, tying us to this world. So we will keep logic strong, by obeying it. Our '_partners_,' will be watching, and this will be the first, of _many _tests to come. We will pass this test—by _failing _it. Let the heroes come, and when they do, set their own children on them. Let the strong have a chance to tackle their inferiorly, emotionally _weak_, parents." Doc stated seriously. The two psychos smiled and nodded in return.

Romulus then turned back to Doc. "I wish to see the 'transformation,' of the Howlett child." he said. Doc nodded towards him.

"Lady Deathstrike, if you would please, take Romulus here to visit young Jason. Allow him the _full _privilege of seeing the process of the '_adamantium bonding_.'" Doc ordered, and Yuriko nodded, leading Romulus out of the room.

"Carnage, come. We have a date with Miss Parker." Doc said, departing from the room, with Carnage in tow.

* * *

><p>Jason Howlett came-to on a cold titanium table, in one of the many rooms of the facility, as a myriad of needles, all made of sturdy "<em>Space-Steel<em>," surrounded him. All of the needles were filled with melted adamantium. Jason's dark black eyes went wide, matching the nature of his chaotic black hair. He had a healing factor, much like his father and mother, and he _knew _that he couldn't die—not from what was about to happen to him.

Romulus and Lady Deathstrike watched him with fascination.

He _knew _that this process would make him stronger, but he was unsure if he could take much more strength. He wasn't sure if he was strong enough to become stronger. He would try, though. He would _always _try.

The adamantium would be injected into his skeleton, and its melted form would harden, crystalize and reform, making it into the _unbreakable _alloy that had been bonded to _many _members of his brutal bloodline—including his father, his mother, and the savage sister he had, since long, stopped admiring.

The needles dug its way into his skin, and his hereditary healing factor was already fast-at-work, repairing what damage had already been done, as new damage was made. It only made it more painful, as the hot magma flowed forcefully through him, scorching whatever it touched—which was _everything_—before his body healed it almost as quickly as the damage had been done. His healing factor prevented his death from occurring, but it also prevented is _life_ from occurring. It healed him, but it increased the pain that he felt, by a factor of over tenfold.

The boy did not cry. He did not scream. He did not flinch. He simply endured. He could always endure. But he always wished that he could _not_. He was strong. But he _wanted _to be _weak_. He wanted _death_. But he was cursed with life.

* * *

><p>Penny Parker lay on a cold titanium table, in one of the many rooms of the facility, as a canister of "<em>liquid-leech-lining<em>," the liquid making it possible for a symbiote to be bonded with her, was sprayed across her body by a machine overhead.

Her bold brown hair lay damp when the liquid had finished coating her, and her hazel eyes experienced something that they had not experienced in a _very long time_. They experienced _fear_. She wasn't afraid of an external force, though. She was afraid of _herself_, of what she would become, afterwards. This symbiote was a _dead_ creature, taken from Carnage, the creature created when the symbiote-child of the symbiote "_Venom_," had bonded to Cletus Cassidy.

The symbiotes were an aggressive alien race of beings, that _needed _a host that _wanted _them, and they made their host stronger, by making _themselves _stronger, allowing them to _survive_, and to follow logic. The symbiotes absorbed all of the powers, memories, and abilities of their former hosts, and they passed them all on to their next host. These powers, abilities, and skills were then compounded and amplified by the next host's _aggression_.

That was why Venom and Carnage were physically stronger, swifter, and more sturdier, than the original Spiderman—the original host for the symbiote that had created Venom and Carnage—but even so, Spiderman was _far _more experienced, trained, taught, and tempered, and he could contend with _both _Venom and Carnage at this point in his career.

The _dead _piece of the symbiote that was about to be bonded with Penny, though, was not like the rest. It would _not _add another being to her already-stressed body. It would only make her _own _aggressions more connected to her abilities. It would increase her strength, speed, senses, and solidity—all _tremendously_. But it would come at a cost. Still, though, she was prepared to pay that cost—even though she was already "_in_ _debt_."

The black-red symbiote-skin, dropped from a tube overhead, and it latched-on to Penny, turning her own fears of herself _against _her. Her body fought the bonding, while her mind fought her body. She was in agony—more agony than she had _ever _known, but she would not show it, although she _wanted _to. Searing pain ripped through her body as the dead symbiote bonded with her. She did not make a single sign of _any _of the discomfort that she felt, though. She was strong, but she prayed for weakness. She prayed for death. She did not know whom she prayed _to_, though.

* * *

><p>Web-Woman, followed faithfully by her partner, Spider-Girl, swung throughout the streets of New York City. The two landed on the rooftop of a Manhattan skyscraper, and they stopped for a moment.<p>

Web Woman turned to her protégé. "First of all, that was a risky endeavor. It was stupid, brash, hardheaded, and stubborn. It could have gotten someone killed. That was a _very dumb _thing that you did." Web Woman stated sternly. Spider-Girl lowered her head slightly, nodding at her mentor.

"…And, secondly, it was brilliant, bold, and it ended-up saving lives. It was stupid, but hey, that's why we're the strong '_spider-symbols_,' of New York—so that we can make the stupid decisions that no one else will—that no one else _can_. We're here, to _be _the targets, because we can _take _it, so it's only logical for us to do so, and last time I checked we were rational heroes, so we always follow logic." Web Woman added, and Spider-Girl looked up at her mentor. Spider-Girl's black-and-grey costume shined dimly in the pale moonlight, the bold black spider symbol on her chest made it clear who she was.

Web Woman's black-and-white costume contrasted vastly with her protégé, her white web-symbol showing its own kind of identity—one that was not taken lightly.

"That was stupid. But it was good, kid. Nice job, Spider-Girl. Now, head home, before the web-head kills me for keeping you out so late on a school night. …Oh, and work your comedy. That last one-liner was _really _corny." Web Woman said sincerely.

Spider-Girl smiled, and although her mask concealed it, her smile could be audibly heard in her voice.

"Corny? I thought that this family only used material that was original." Spider-Girl said, questioningly.

"We do." Web Woman replied.

"Well, then that one-liner was perfect! It was fresh and new! …It's not my fault that it was fresh _off of the cob_!" Spider-Girl said comically. Web Woman sighed. She was definitely Peter's daughter—one of them, anyways.

"Go home, Ari. …And, take the rest of the weekend off. You've done enough good for the month to deserve a break." Web Woman said, shaking her head. Spider-Girl nodded, chuckling as she did so. Spider-Girl launched herself off of the roof. She expertly ejected a webline from the underside of her wrist, nailing a crane with her webbing, and she started swinging back to her home in Queens.

"…And, after _that _fight, we _both _deserve some _food_! …Wanna come over tonight? Mom's cooking…" Spider-Girl offered, turning around, mid-swing, to talk to her mentor. Web Woman did not respond. She just launched herself off of the roof, taking the lead in the undeclared race between the two.

Ari reached her house, and she entered through her unlocked second-story window, undressing and unmasking herself as she did so. She donned some of her civilian clothes. She headed downstairs, to find Web Woman—her Aunt Anya—in her civilian clothes, and scouring the kitchen, looking for something to squelch her overactive metabolism.

Ari raised an eyebrow when she saw that the kitchen was empty. She then checked her father's study, her parents' room, the garage, and the basement. No one was home, and the only light that was on, was the light in the living room.

Her parents were _always _home at this time, unless a global emergency had forced her father to leave unexpectedly. This was the time that her father ate with his family before starting his night patrols—and he was _always _sure to cherish _every _minute of it. The fact that _no one _was home was _incredibly odd_. Ari then remembered the light that was on in the living room. They _never _left any lights on.

Ari turned around and looked curiously at her Aunt Anya—who was carrying a massive load of leftovers from the fridge. Ari rolled her eyes. Anya shrugged. She had to eat—emergency or not, she was starving, and the fast metabolisms of the Spider-Family left her furiously famished. Ari narrowed her eyes at her Aunt, and Anya sighed, putting the food down, and walking over to the corner of the wall, which turned and led into the living room. Anya stepped in front of her niece, her protégé.

The two females looked at each other, nodded, and then pounced around the corner, their fighting stances already assumed. They found something that they did not expect. They found Gerald "Gerry" Drew, Jessica Drew's only son—and the current Spider-Boy—sitting on Ari's couch, reading a novel.

Gerry looked up from his novel, and his recognizable black hair wavered as he did so. Gerry's brown eyes swiftly scanned the two females, and the bright brown skin tone of Arianna Parker, adopted daughter of Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson-Parker stood out to him immediately. Ari's bold black hair, hanging down over the back of her shoulders, and the brownish-red hair of her aunt, tied-up in ponytail, allowed Gerry to quickly distinguish the two as Ari and Anya. Ari's bashful brown eyes met Gerry's own eyes. He smiled.

Anya had never met Peter or his family before her own super-spider-abilities, had been added, altered, and activated by the Spider Society, a society of super-powered humans, that all had arachnid abilities, deriving from spider-venom, mutation, and the evolution that it caused over the years. Since then, Anya had been a hero.

Soon, she found the famous, well-trained, well-experienced, Spiderman, and she quickly became his partner. He had trained her—and along with her training from S.H.I.E.L.D.—and Anya had become a highly skilled martial-artist, and hero—just like every other member of the Spider-Family. She was a large part of Peter's "family," just as Jessica, Julia, Ben, Mattie, Gerry, and Ari were. Peter and Anya were inseparable. They were siblings, not bonded by blood or legality, but by heart. Now, she and her niece were same way—as were Peter and Gerry, as Gerry was now Spiderman's sidekick.

"'Bout time you two got here." he said, as if he had been waiting for a while.

Anya and Ari looked to one another, and then back to Gerry. They shrugged. Doors were for normal humans, not for spiders. "Sorry, we had to _swing _by a crime scene—y'know, _before _it became a crime scene." they said in unison. The two females looked at each other. They narrowed their eyes.

"Jinx! Double jinx! Triple jinx! Dammit!" they said in unison, once again.

"You know, Anya, a mentor is supposed teach _new_ behaviors to their protégés—_not _reinforce their childish ones. Oh, wait. I forgot. That _was _something that you taught Ari. I keep forgetting that she is the adult in this relationship." Gerry said, still eyeing the two and chuckling comically. Anya webbed his hand, and yanked it up, making him slap himself across the face.

"Only _children_ cannot control their actions." she said, smirking as she did so. Gerry rubbed his face as he twisted it up, into a scowl. Anya smiled. Ari chuckled.

"What's wrong, though, Gerry? Where's my dad?" Ari asked, a slight tone of worry in her voice.

Gerry shook his head, leaping over the back of the couch, and shooting a webline to connect to his costume—which had been hanging on the coat rack a few feet away. He snatched his costumed into his hands, and he quickly donned it.

"Follow me, and you'll find out." he said simply.

Ari shot a webline at his back, and she stopped him. She turned him around, whipping him into her arms. She raised an eyebrow at him, and then she noticed their proximity to each other, and she proceeded to released him, and _blush_—an action which he readily reciprocated. He took a few steps backwards, clearing his throat as he did so.

He smiled, donning his black-and-blue mask, which perfectly matched his black-and-blue suit. "They _found _them, Ari! S.H.I.E.L.D. sent the notification of their discovery to _any and all _heroes registered with them—nationally, _and _globally. They got 'em. Your sister is coming _home_." Gerry said happily.

Ari's face lit up, and then her emotions fell dramatically. "Gerry, they have told us that they have found them, time and time again. Nothing _ever _changes." she said sadly.

He smiled, and although she couldn't see it, she _knew _his smile was there. He was one of her partners, one of her closest allies, her closest friends. She knew him, inside and out, and even so, she could hear it in his voice when he spoke.

"Ari, Ghost Rider got Jake Storm's sear scent. They're already on their way. We may not be able to catch-up to them, but Fury still put out an essential emergency encoding, calling _any and all _authorized heroes to the Helicarrier. …If I'm not mistaken, that's _us_. That means that there is still _some _way that we can help." he said, still smiling. Ari smiled in return. Maybe Penny truly was going to come home this time.

Ari turned to Anya. Anya smiled at her. "You go on ahead. I've got to meet someone first." she said vaguely. Ari shot Anya a look that only she could read, and then she nodded. She turned and sprinted up and out of her window, grabbing her costume as she did so. She was going to fight tonight. And she was going to win. Her sister was coming home.

Anya sighed, and she turned to grab her own costume.

* * *

><p>A man creep back in fear as a silent, stealthy, savage, shadow crept towards him, intent on <em>ending <em>him.

The figure that approached him raised a large metallic blade over its head, intending to _kill _the man. The figure never got the chance, as a webline pinned the man to the wall many meters behind him.

The shadowy figure scoffed audibly, and she stepped into the light of the dimly lit alleyway.

The figure was wearing a skintight combat suit, shaded black and silver, and a mask occupying her lower face. Her eyes were not concealed, and her enemies wished that they _were _concealed. Two angular, straight-edged, "_Cs_," shaped like rotated "_Ls_," faced _away _from each other on the chest of the figure's costume. The two backward-facing "_Cs_" looked like an "_X_," that had been cut directly in half.

The shadowy figure walked to the subdued, unconscious, man that was webbed to the brick wall. She skillfully surveyed him in his entirety.

Web Woman dropped down from the rooftop above.

The shadowy figure had her back turned to her. The figure did not turn to face Web Woman, although she _knew _that she was there.

"You should have let me murder him. You have _no idea _what that scum has done." the shadowy figure remarked, still not turning around.

"What _should_ have been is pointless to think about. What happened is what happened—that's the way it _always _is. We deal, and we _move on_. Besides, even if I had let you, you wouldn't have murdered him. He was a murderer, and you would have _killed _him—but not murdered him. There is a difference. You're not like him; you're _better_. That's why logic dictates that you should win and he should lose, but even greater logic dictates that he should lose on _our _terms—_not _his. He wasn't going to get the satisfaction of making you kill him." Web Woman countered.

"You're always appearing where you're not wanted." the shadowy figure replied coldly.

"I may not always be wanted…but I know when I'm _needed_." We Woman retorted.

"I hate that about you." the figure replied.

"It's nice to see you too, Laura." Web Woman said sincerely.

The shadowy figure finally turned around, ejecting two precision blades from each of her arms as she did so; the blades were coated in adamantium. "I go by '_Canine Carver_,' now." the figure, known as Laura said, indicating the two backwards-facing "_Cs_," on her chest.

"You do realize that, now, when your enemies call you a certain word, they'll be politically correct, right?" Web Woman joked with her old friend.

"…And so will my friends." Carver answered.

"I never thought that you were a female dog. I _knew _that you were one." Web Woman joked again, and this time she raised the bottom half of her mask up, revealing a smile. Carver rolled her eyes, and she smiled slightly as well—but her mask concealed any sign of it.

"What are you even doing in this part of town? Need to find some scum to let some steam off on?" Carver asked aptly.

"No. I came to get _you_." Web Woman said honestly, pulling down her mask again.

"You already _have _me. All you had to do was call. I'm here—or there—when you want me, although I'm not really always going to want _you_. …Actually, right now is one of those times when I do _not _want you." Carver said simply.

"I do want you; you're right. I want you to help the person that _needs _you. They found Jason." Web Woman said earnestly.

Canine Carver said no more, as she bounded up the nearest wall, and across the rooftops, heading for the nearest S.H.I.E.L.D. teleportation site. Web Woman swung swiftly after her.

* * *

><p>Penny and Jason stared silently at each other, each waiting for the other to act. They were circling each other, and their fighting stances were assumed. Their superiors were watching them from windows above in the facility that they were currently in. They were prepared to pounce, and so they did.<p>

The two tenacious teens were about to move _much_ faster than the average human could perceive, and although they were both extremely skilled—as both were taught, trained, and tempered to kill, exceptionally well—neither of the two teens were allowed to use their abilities or powers for this "first round," of the fight. Penny's symbiote bonding had rendered her "spider-sense" temporarily incapacitated, as her biggest threat now came from within herself, after the "transformation" was complete. Due to this fact, her sense was confused, and it needed some time to rewire itself. This temporarily disabled her extremely enhanced strength, speed, and reflexes, as well. Soon, it would reactivate, though, and the real fight would begin.

Jason's healing factor had been rendered useless as well, as his body had burned itself out from his own "transformation."

Penny and Jason assumed their fighting stances, each unique to their openly overt styles, and they slowly began to circle each other. Jason motioned towards Penny, telling her to throw the first punch. Penny shook her head, and she repeated Jason's action. Jason narrowed his eyes at her. She tilted her head to one side, preparing to strike. '_On three_?' they mouthed to each other. They both nodded.

On the count of three, both teens charged at the other, furiously fighting to the finish. Jason delivered swift roundhouse kick to the head of his opponent, and Penny blocked the attack, while grabbing Jason's raised foot with both of her hands. Penny threw her body weight forward, causing Jason to fall back, and she fell on Jason, as Jason had his leg pinned—parallel to his body, bending in the opposite direction that it was intended to bend in.

Jason winced, and he swiftly spun over, as he pinned Penny beneath him, while he hammered her exposed side with a powerful punch. Penny reeled back, and in that instance, Jason swiftly snapped his leg—which was still painfully pinned up to his chest, against its natural direction of motion—out to its full length.

The moment that his pinned leg snapped out and hit the soft floor, he powerfully propelled himself forward, using both feet. As Jason flew over Penny's body, parallel to the ground, he launched past Penny, and he secured his ankles tightly around the brunette's neck. He then planted his hands on the floor, and flipped flawlessly forwards. Penny was lying on her back before Jason's ankles had wrapped around her neck, and the moment that he flipped forwards, she went with him, face first, and she hit the floor on the other side of Jason, face down, in front of her standing opponent. Blood pooled out of the girl's mouth. Jason didn't get to catch his breath, though.

Penny threw all of her weight to her left, as she spun skillfully away from Jason's incoming foot, and she swept Jason's remaining foot out from under him, as her body rotated on the mat. Penny planted her hands and feet on the ground, and she pushed off—hard. She launched herself upwards, and she caught Jason by surprise, as she grabbed his throat, just before his falling body hit the ground.

Penny spun under Jason's body, and she used her momentum to carry her, as she forcefully slammed him, throat first, into the floor. He quickly kicked Penny's legs out from under her, and he followed her spin with a swift strike aimed at Penny's chin. Jason's backhanded blow impacted Penny under her chin, and she flew backwards, as Jason got to his feet.

Penny recovered quickly, as Jason came charging at her once again. Penny deftly ducked out of the way of an incoming fist, and she skillfully spun around Jason's body. With her back to Jason's back, she quickly reached behind her, and she clasped her hands tightly around his throat. Penny pulled her hands up and over her head—hard. Jason hit the floor, face first, and he impacted with the ground rigidly, blood erupting from his mouth. He tried to get to his feet, but she held her grip on his throat, as she dropped her knee on the back of his neck.

"Tap out." she said.

"No!" came his muffled reply from the floor. Penny rolled her eyes, and she released her grip, as Jason launched to his feet once again. The two teens circled each other and they pounced once again.

Jason deftly ducked under one of Penny's well-placed blows, and he swiftly slid under her legs, reappearing on the other side of her. He quickly turned around, kicking the girl in the head as he did so, staining the wall behind her—with blood from her mouth. She hit the floor, and he quickly dove at her, pinning her by the throat.

"Tap out!" he said.

"No!" came her muffled reply from the floor. He rolled his eyes, and released his grip, as she rose to her feet. She spit that blood that pooled in her mouth to the feet of the boy. The two pounced at each other once again.

Two hours later, both of the fighters were beaten, bloody, and bruised all over. The fight had ended in a draw.

Romulus and Doc, watching from above, nodded in agreement. "Good, their skills, _without _their abilities or powers are _quite _impressive. Now, we must test their _true _strength against each other. Activate the boy's '_trigger-scent_,' and activate the girl's '_trigger-sense_.'" Doc ordered, and the lab technicians that were watching the first round of the fight nodded and departed. In a few minutes, the teens' bodies would be flushed of any and all toxins, and their _true _power would be tested against each other. Their abilities would be back to full-power very soon, and then they would fight again.

The scent that would trigger Jason's fatally feral state—the scent of a certain spider's blood—and the presence that would trigger Penny's symbiote transformation—the presence of a certain feral teen—would soon send these teens into a frenzied fight to the death.

* * *

><p>Samuel Stark screwed a bolt into his mighty mechanical arm—his right arm—as he inspected it, making sure that the artificial limb that replaced his missing one was ready for a fight. The arm was accurately attached to his upper forearm, a few inches past the elbow, where his true skin ended.<p>

Roy Rogers, his blonde-brown hair chaotically cropped, looked around him with his brash blue eyes, examining the nearby members of his troop. Sam's dark messy hair was in disarray, and his golden eyes focused on his dark grey-and-black mechanical arm. Soon, he finished the modifications, and he grabbed a nearby can of spray-paint from the shelves in the warehouse room that the three boys resided in. He coated the mechanical arm in a layer of polymerizing paint, making it match skin tone of the rest of his arm, disguising the metal completely.

Roy then adjusted his stare, and rested it on the final boy in the room, Jacob Storm, with his dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Jacob was constantly surrounding himself in flames, and dissipating the flames as he saw fit.

"You're such a flamer." Sam commented comically, addressing the pyrokinetic.

Jake rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and for a genius, Stark, you're a real idiot." Jacob responded to his armed ally, igniting himself once again. "Besides, '_flamer_,' or not, we both know that I'm your '_Right-Hand-Man_,' and you can't do crap without me—_literally_." Jake teased, and Sam frowned at the pyro.

"If you're my right hand, then you have some seriously disgusting jobs, man." Sam readily replied.

The two trained teenage boys burst into fits of small laughter, before their unspoken leader grabbed their attentions.

"Enough. There is no reason to laugh here. There is nothing funny, only something _dire_. We will wait for Parker and Howlett to return, and then we shall review our strategies." Roy said to his two comrades. They both nodded in response.

"We will fight. And then we will win." Roy finished firmly.

These three boys were ready for a fight. They were ready to stop the weaklings that had dared to challenge them. They were ready to kill—kill their parents.

But Roy still felt…_wrong_. He was following orders, but that meant that he was under another's control. He was ready to engage in the coming fight to prove his strength. But being controlled was a condition that the weak suffered from. Roy had some thinking to do. He sighed; that was usually Stark's job, but he, as a logical leader, had to make this call on his own. He hoped that he would make the right one. But it was only a hope.

Samuel Stark walked over to a far corner of the room, and he opened a secure steel cabinet. Inside was a suit—a mighty metallic suit. The suit was made of _many _metallic alloys, and they were all interweaved, and stitched-together, by an invisible forcefield of empirical energy. This forcefield reinforced the suit, as well as powered it. The forcefield reactively responded, readjusted, and replied to added pressure forces, and energy from outside, and it always protected its user. Moreover, its interior was lined with vibranium, the nearly-indestructible, vibration-absorbing, metal that Captain America's shield was made from.

His father's suit had a forcefield as well, but Samuel's suit was…_better_. Sam smirked. He had built the suit himself—from scratch. It was better than anything his dear father could conceive. And it was more destructive.

Sam scanned the suit, its black-and-gray color scheme looking like a nightmare. He smiled slightly. It was ready—ready to _kill_. Sam looked at the arc-reactor that was imbedded in his right arm—his mechanical arm. The arc-reactor was hidden by the highly durable spray-paint on his arm, but although he couldn't see it, Sam knew it was there. His view shifted back to the suit. There was an empty hole in the right arm of the suit—a slot for a power device. It was meant to fit his own reactor.

Sam carefully opened the gauntlet of the right arm of the suit, and he fit his own right arm into the suit's metallic right sleeve. Immediately, the circuits in the open area of the right arm of the suit merged with the circuits of the arc-reactor that was imbedded Sam's right arm. Power surged through his body. The mechanical arm was expertly, electrically, attached to the nerves that remained in the biological part of his arm, and thus, his robotic arm was interlaced with his nervous system. Whatever the arm felt, _he _felt.

The power continued to surge throughout the boy's body, until he sighed and opened his eyes, adjusting the large power output. He smiled sinisterly.

Sam hit a key on the suit's right arm, and almost immediately a protective metallic cover sealed over his arc-reactor, and the rest of the suit expertly followed, found, and encircled, his entire body.

The face mask was the final piece of the suit to fit itself onto its master. After the mask was in place, tiny neural fibers linked into Sam's arc-reactor from his suit, and the nerves in his mechanical right arm connected to the suit, connecting the suit to Sam's nervous system. The suit verified—quite quickly—that Sam was the rightful owner of the suit, before it activated its full power. Sam smirked from underneath his invincible exoskeleton. Sam became "_Sonic Steel_."

Iron Man was invincible. He was impossible to defeat. But Sonic Steel did the impossible.

Sam, _mentally_, swiftly snapped a button on his virtual heads-up-display, and the entire suit began swiftly shedding itself, folding back onto itself. Soon, the entire suit collapsed into a small, durable, _dense_, metallic disk that was wrapped around his arc-reactor on his mechanical right arm.

Sam flexed his right arm—which looked very human under the highly-durable spray paint—and he smiled at its responsiveness.

Sam smoothly brushed a hand over his metallic right arm. He closed his eyes briefly. He had lost his biological right arm, because of his…_carelessness_. He opened his eyes, and a sinister scowl spread over his face. He had probably inherited that from his father. It didn't matter now, though. The only thing that mattered was the present—and _victory_. Sam—and his four allies—had been taught that. It had been drilled into them since they had arrived in the Power Progeny Program.

Although, there was a significant benefit to having a mechanical right arm. Without his mechanical arm, Sam's suit would be nowhere as powerful as it was currently. Although, he didn't particularly need the suit to be _powerful_. Without the suit, Samuel was genius, a strategist, a tactician, and a martial-arts-expert. All of them were. All five of the teenagers were martial-arts-experts—_most _of all, Roy Rogers.

Even in their most devoid states—without _any _of their powers, abilities, or weapons—these five teenagers could contend with the some of the most powerful foes on the planet. Roy Rogers was the pinnacle of that example. He had absolutely _no _superhuman powers or abilities. He had no X-Gene. And, although the super-soldier-serum ran through his veins, much like his father, Roy was still _very _human.

But, by embracing his imperfections, Roy had achieved perfection—or something very close. Roy could contend, competently, with Jacob Storm, Samuel Stark, Penny Parker, or Jason Howlett, and he could do so, using _only_ his body and his mind. Roy was a master of any and all martial-arts that had originated on Earth, and he was well-versed in battle strategy—and in leadership skills.

During the _many _field-missions that the Power Progeny Program had sent these five teenagers on, Roy had _always _acted as their leader, and that was _always _the way they had wanted it.

He looked up to see his two comrades warily watching him. Sam walked over to them.

"Ready?" Roy asked Sam.

The genius nodded, smirking. "No one is ever ready for what is coming. But, who needs preparation, with a leader like you, huh, Leads?" Sam commented comically. Roy narrowed his eyes, and Sam and Jacob looked to each other, and then back to their leader. They nodded. They were ready. Their parents were not.

* * *

><p>Colonel Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.,was standing behind a large table in the main meeting room of the main headquarters of S.H.I.E.L.D<em>.<em>, the hovering Helicarrier.

Heroes were gathered around the table, and he expertly eyed them all. Dr. Bruce Banner, Dr. Michael Morbius, and their eldest children, Mortala Morbius and Blake Banner, were among those heroes present. Spider-Girl and Spider-Boy had just arrived. Daredevil and Elektra, married for some time, stood off to the left, both in costume, and both skillfully surveying their surroundings; although only one of them used their eyes to do this, as Daredevil was blind.

Agent 13, Commander Sharon Carter-Rogers, the mother of Roy Rogers and the wife of Steve Rogers, stood next to Colonel Fury on the other side of the table. Hawkeye, also in costume, stood restlessly next to Spider-Boy and Spider-Girl. They all stood around the table, waiting for Fury to start talking.

Fury turned to Agent 13, and the two began to converse lightly. Clint raised an eyebrow at this odd action, but he let it go. Agent 13, Sharon Carter, nodded agreeably, and she walked away from Fury, taking her place among the heroes in the room.

Clint Barton, known keenly as Hawkeye, the archer of the Avengers, swiftly, skillfully, scanned the heroes around him. Hawkeye's bright blue eyes caught sight of Bruce Banner's brown hair, and his brown eyes. He caught sight of Blake Banner's dark, hardened, eyes, and his chaotic charcoal hair. He caught sight of Elektra's brash blue eyes, and her bold black hair.

He caught sight of the eyes of Daredevil, a man that Clint knew as Matt Murdock, and Clint clearly saw Matt's blue eyes, although they were cleverly concealed behind red-devil-visors—although these eyes could not see a single thing in return—and, although he could not see his hair, Clint knew that the blind Devil's hair was a dull red.

He caught sight of Commander Carter's blue eyes, and her blonde hair. He caught sight of Michael Morbius's smartly savage, scarlet eyes, and his black hair. He caught sight of Mortala Morbius's vicious violet eyes, and her dark black hair.

Hawkeye finally took notice of the two younger heroes as well, but he didn't discern anything specific from their physiques, except for their approximate ages, as their costumes covered _everything _on their bodies. He also discerned that they were trained—well-trained—by the way that the two stood. They looked unprepared, to the untrained eye. But that was a deception. They were ready, ready for almost anything. Clint wondered if they were ready for what was coming, though.

Clint was about to open his mouth to address Fury, as he was becoming aggravated that his son and daughter, as well as Daredevil's daughter, had been kept in the "_Daycare-Detention-Center_," to keep them out of the briefing room. Clint didn't like being away from his children for long—especially after the terrible kidnapping incident that had caused all of this chaos. In his eyes, no one could protect his children, no one but him—and maybe Natasha, too.

Just as Clint opened his mouth to speak, though, Canine Carver and Web Woman burst into the room. Clint shut his mouth as the two fatal females took their place around the table.

Fury took notice of this, and he started immediately. It was clear that he had been waiting for the two.

"I wish that I could say '_welcome_,' but we all know that there is _nothing _welcoming about this meeting." he started seriously, his one ominous eye skillfully scanning any and all of the heroes before him. The tone in the room immediately became urgent.

"We are gathered here, not to mount an attack, but to mount a _rescue_, an act of equalization. The children of some of the world's greatest heroes were taken eight years ago, and since that time, the world has fallen into doubt, despair, and depression. Today, that will _all _change. Today, those children will come home. Today, the world will have hope, once again. These children have likely been subjected to massive trauma, torture, teachings, and training that has, since eight years ago, rendered them _compromised_. As you all know, we do _not _compromise. We win. It will be no different here, today. …And, when I say '_we_,' I mean _all _of us." Fury went on.

"The Avengers, the Fantastic Four, the X-Men, and the Young Avengers, are no longer under the control, care, or consideration of S.H.I.E.L.D. Any and all of these organizations have been recognized, by the UN, as greater peace-keeping organizations, and they have all, for the most-part, become _independent _of S.H.I.E.L.D. Although this is true, we do still keep these organizations in-check, as we work with them, ensuring their goals are met, and rallying all of the other organizations to keep each other in-check. The people that work for these organizations, the members themselves, are heroes—_superheroes_." Fury went on, pausing once again.

"They are smarter, stronger, and swifter than the average human could _ever hope _to be. They use this strength to protect the weak, and avenge the innocent. Logic states that the strong live, and the weak die. We are strong. Those that put their faith in us, those that believe in us, are strong. Faith is perseverance. Faith is strength. Those that put their hopes in us, in S.H.I.E.L.D., and in her allies, have faith. They have strength. Thus they must live, and we have always—and will always—ensure that they do, because those people give us the strength that we need to persevere, to do the one thing that life's logic says we should do—_survive_. Today will be no different, and today, we will succeed." he continued, and those around him nodded.

"The people that are responsible for the kidnapping of these children may not have wanted the children _at all_. Instead, they may have, most-likely, used them as _bait_, to get to _you all_. If that is the case, then you must know what you're going-up-against, and the trap that is sprung must be _your trap_, and not their own. The fact of the matter is that you all will be facing things that should not even be in existence. Thus, there is intrinsically important information that you all need to know, before venturing out on this mission." he explained. Clint narrowed his eyes. Everyone else looked at each other, and then back to Fury. They nodded.

"This will all be a large load of information, and _everything _that I have just said, as well, as the information that I am _about _to disclose will be copied, _verbatim_, and sent via _superior secure _connections, to any and all of our allies—including those off-world." Fury said simply, allowing no time for response.

"First and foremost, this universe—the one that you all inhabit, with all of its galaxies, solar systems, planets, and forms-of-life—is a distinctly diverse place, and it can split into three _separate_ planes. Any and all of these planes are connected to each other, by empirical energy fields. Moreover, since matter _is _simply hardened energy, _everything_ has force, and thus can travel between these three different planes. Even the molecules that make-up your own bodies have this energy, and it is inherent in all of you. Some have found a way of tapping-into this energy and using it to convert matter—_solid _energy—into mobile, destructive, energy—and the other way around. This tampering can, and has, caused serious disturbances within the universe, as a whole. If left unchecked, it could do _more _than just disrupt things; it could _demolish _them. These disturbances, not surprisingly, started occurring _exactly _eight years ago. The kidnapping of these children is somehow tied to this. We must rescue these kids, and we _must _stop these disturbances." he elaborated.

The heroes nodded in response. He expected some questions, but after all of the global, universal, and galactic battles that these great heroes had been involved in, he realized that they knew what to expect. So he continued.

"However, we have no idea where these disturbances are originating, as we cannot pinpoint them. The constant transition from energy to matter, and of matter to energy, interferes too much with any and all of our equipment. But we do have a hunch that it is originating in _this _plane of the universe, the middle-plane. Although, the beings of the first plane of the universe—the plane that most of you colloquially call _Hell_—must be aiding those responsible in for the disturbances in _this _plane. This must be true, because those that reside in that first plane—the plane of _Hell_—have greater control over their thoughts. Thus, those first-plane-beings can tap into the energies of their own bodies—and the energies of their own plane, as well as the energies of _our_ own plane. These first-plane-beings can do this, with their thoughts, due to the excess energy that the mental brainwaves of the beings the first plane have." Fury said, pausing to let the others absorb what he had been saying.

"The being, _Mephisto_, as he is referred to as, is a being from the first plane, from _Hell_, that has, and is, constantly trying to gain a foothold in this universe, by making deals with the inhabitants of _this_ plane. We have reason to suspect that he is somehow involved here. If he can gain control of this plane, or at least part of it, then he will have his goal accomplished—to return matter to its original state, the state of energy, to _destroy _everything. But Mephisto has _never _succeeded. He is the one that stole the marriage, memories, and happiness of Spiderman, himself. But thanks to Ghost Rider, the hero bonded with a soul from the first plane of _Hell_, Spiderman reversed the ill-effects of Mephisto's work, but not before altering his life due to his loss-of-memories." Fury said, stopping to let the heroes process the information.

"Regardless, though, it should be noted that the first plane, the plane of _Hell_, is aptly able to control thoughts, and use those thoughts to influence _this_ plane, the middle-plane. While that is true, it should also be noted that the _third _plane, the one that you all colloquially call _Heaven_, is able to control _actions_, and use those _actions_ to influence _this_ plane. We have recently taken-in a being from the _third _plane that has fallen to _our own_ plane, after being exiled from _her own_ plane. _That _is the person that has been responsible for relaying most of this information to us." Fury said somberly.

Clint raised his hand.

"Hawkeye?" Fury asked.

"You mean that a '_fallen angel_' told you all of this? And you believed her?" he asked, incredulously.

"In colloquial terms, she is a f_allen angel_,' yes. But, while it may sound ridiculous, she has also _proved _what she has told us to be true. She wishes to prevent the destruction of this plane as well, because, without it, the third plane has no function. And, no Hawkeye, this does not prove the existence of God, so please refrain from accusing me of anything of the sort. He may—or may not—exist, and quite frankly, I could care less. In fact, the '_fallen angel_,' herself, has never met a divine being and is quite agnostic." the Director explained. Clint chuckled and nodded. Director Fury continued.

"And, where, exactly, is this '_fallen angel_?'" Clint asked curiously, chuckling comically as he did so.

"She is currently recuperating, in a very secure location, from her injuries that she sustained when she fell from her plane, and entered our own plane." Fury explained. Clint nodded. He would meet her later. Great. _Another _Avenger. Clint sighed. She was probably an attractive angel. Why did he have to be married? Oh well.

"Now, our plane—the middle-plane—is the most imperfect, but it is also the one plane that is most-capable of change, and progression. Our plane is the only one that has living beings that _differ _from each other. This diversity created a logical race to become the most dominant, and in this '_race_,' the most logical groups won. We won." he said, pausing once again.

"But, we interacted with almost every species on our planet along the way. Spider-venom, jellyfish-venom, the meat from hunted animals, and much more all entered our bodies at one point. Moreover, our position as the highest of the living species, on this planet, in this plane, allowed our molecules to react to the environment and release energy when necessary. The energy that was released created energetic chemical reactions that no other species on this planet could have had. The mixing of human and animal DNA, in the early years of humanity—and humanity's adaptive alterations, and changing codes of genetics—allowed us to work the animal DNA into our systems. We then cultivated those dormant abilities for centuries, and the mental-processes of our minds—the energy that powers the conversion of thought into energy, and then into matter—created ways to manifest these latent abilities. Today, these abilities are no longer latent, and the things that trigger them are present in all of those that have these abilities. We call these things _X-Genes_." Fury finished, letting the heroes put these things together.

"The activation of abilities that have been dormant for centuries, in certain individuals, is based on the energy inherent in that human, and how much energy in the environment interacts with that individual. Thus, we have mutants—beings _born _with X_-_Genes—and we have mutates—beings _endowed _with superpowers, or X-Genes, such as Spider-Girl, here. Spider-Girl is the youngest daughter of Spiderman, who, although she has his abilities, is not related to him by blood. She is his adopted child. Her abilities came to her during the '_Symbiote Sickness_,' which granted her an X-Gene, when a symbiote attached itself to the young, prenatal, fetus of the baby that would become Spider-Girl." Fury said sternly.

Beneath her mask, Ari's eyes went wide. She had no idea that Fury knew so much about her—and about her family. She then narrowed her eyes. No one asked him to divulge that information. One word passed through Ari's mind. '_Jerk._' she thought to herself. She may have been adopted, but she was Peter's daughter in every way. He wouldn't have her thinking anything differently.

"The symbiotes were an aggressive alien race of beings, that needed a host—one that wanted them—and they made their host stronger, by making themselves stronger, allowing them to survive, to follow logic. The symbiotes absorbed any and all of the powers, memories, and abilities of their former hosts, and they passed all of those abilities and memories on to their next host. These powers, abilities, and skills were then compounded and amplified by the next host's aggression. The specific symbiote that attempted to bind with the prenatal fetus that would become Spider-Girl was the same symbiote that had, at one point, bonded itself to Venom and Spiderman. The symbiote attempted to _completely _take-over the fetus that would become Spider-Girl, and as such, it sought to make a _single _being, from two. This process killed the mother during delivery, and her blood carried a virus that went airborne, spreading Spiderman's abilities, and an angrily aggressive attitude, with it." the Director elaborated further.

"This '_Symbiote Sickness_' occurred in India, and Spiderman, and good number of the Spider-Family, were sent to stop it, and deal with the threat. They ended-up having to depower two members of the Spider-Family. Those two members were Jessica Drew, the first Spider-Woman, and Mattie Franklin, the third Spider-Woman. They depowered them, using a reverse-metabolizer. Using their now-depowered-blood as an antidote, they cured all of those that had been infected." Fury paused again to let them catch their breath.

"The antidote worked, but two members of the Spider-Family lost their abilities. Thankfully, though, after the antidote was applied to the two depowered heroes, it had an opposite effect on them. It made them ill, and soon they overcame their illness, regaining their abilities as well. Due to their exposure to this virus, though, many members of the Spider-Family now have organic-webbing, produced by their own bodies. The mission was a success, but unfortunately, young Spider-Girl was stuck without a home, family, or support for her newfound abilities—abilities that were not able to be cured, because they were now a part of her. Spiderman took her in, and trained her. She is now the hero that you see before you. Understanding her story will help you to understand the reasons that humans are of such interest to the beings of the first plane, the plane called _Hell_." Fury finished.

Everyone turned to look at Spider-Girl. Gerry didn't look. He hated when people looked at her like she was different.

Jessica Drew and Mattie Franklin were two people that Ari considered aunts; they were two people that her father considered sisters. Peter had helped them, too. Peter had taught, trained, and tempered, both, Jessica and Mattie. He had helped them, after experiments gave them their abilities. He had helped Jessica after she had been captured by an evil organization, and turned into a weapon. The one thing that he had made sure to drill into them was the fact that secret identities did not just keep the symbols of their heroes alive; they kept the hero's family alive as well. _No one_ outside of the Spider-Family knew who those two were. Ari wondered how much more information Fury had on the people in this room. She didn't want to know.

"You mean that they want to study our X-Genes, to be able to reverse it, and thus reverse our energy-flow in this plane-of-existence, and thusly _completely destroy _our plane-of-existence?" Spider-Girl asked aptly.

Blake Banner nodded at her. "If they can reverse the X-Genes, then they will be able to halt human progress, and thus, stop any resistance that we have against them. The thing is, though, that as long as the X-Genes—and even the non-powered superheroes—still exist, technically, they can't even begin to touch this plane-of-existence." he said surely.

"Those genes are vastly different from each other, though. I mean, look at me and my father. He caught a vampire virus, that lead him to become a plasma-thirsty, blood-seeking vampire. The mutation also gave him excess blood, allowing for coiled muscle mass, conductive electrolytes in his body, and night-vision. These enhancements then gave him super-strength, super-speed, shadow-summoning abilities, wall-crawling, and a few other skills. The _Vampire Vitrification_ was a war, fought solely for the right of Vampires to exist, and my father fought _against _them, because he reasoned that they were _weak_, selfish beings, and that it was only logical to eliminate them—himself included. Although he won the war and men died, he could never kill himself because of my mother. He couldn't hurt her, and hurting himself would hurt her more. But look at me. I'm not a mutate. I'm a mutant, _born _with the same X-Gene that my father had. The one mutation that he had, though, was _created _by _him_, which means that it mimics _no _other X-Gene on the entire planet. If mutates and mutants can be created like that, then how can they possibly hope to recreate a gene that changes _that _much, so quickly, and so vastly, in-order to reverse the gene?" Mortala asked, her violent violet eyes expertly eying Director Fury.

"Mortala is right. Dr. Banner and myself, both, were called here, to assist with the analyzing of several X-Genes, and devising safeguards for them, so that they could _not _be reversed. However, my daughter is right in saying that there are _far too many_ X-Genes in the world, and too many that are constantly being activated—and _deactivated_—to be able to accurately analyze them all. Some people are _born _with their X-Genes—people called _mutants_, and some are _mutated_ by external forces—people called _mutates_. There are simply too many factors to take into account. The _only _way that would ensure that a universal method of _reversing _any and all of the X-Genes on the planet, would be to capture, detain, examine, test, and alter humans that had active X-Genes, and then test their findings, by adding these '_reversible genes_,' to other, _non-mutant_, humans." Doctor Michael Morbius said, sure of himself.

"That means that they must have operatives working here, in this plane, or even on this planet, to help them eliminate the heroes. That means that humans are helping them. That's why they took the kids, to study them. But, that makes no sense. That means that the possible payoff of working with these first-plane-beings would be even greater than the option of pissing off the whole world, but since the payoff is just the destruction of everything…" Bruce said, trailing-off.

"That indicates that there is something that we're missing. We don't have the entire story, and that's why we're here, isn't it? We're going into a covert op to infiltrate some suspected partners of the first-plane-beings, and we're going to discover what the _real _payoff is. Right?" Clint said, slightly annoyed at all of the beating-around-the-bush.

"That is correct. But not _you_, Clint. _Them_." Fury said, pointing to Spider-Girl, Spider-Boy, Mortala, and Blake.

The adult heroes eyed each other, and then they turned back to Director Fury. "Are you trying to speed-up the end of the world?!" Elektra asked angrily.

"Honestly, they have a grand amount of tactical training and teaching, but they don't have _enough_. Mortala and Blake are still liabilities to _themselves_, let alone to civilians, as _neither _of them can completely control their genetic urges. If she succumbs to her thirst, then she might drink a whole city dry, and if someone pisses him off, he'll _make _the blood for her to drink—_oceans _of it! Are you insane, Director Fury?!" Bruce asked incredulously, and Blake turned to his father, incredulous at how he was describing his own son. Bruce turned to Blake and shrugged sadly, silently saying '_sorry_.'

"Sorry, it's not my problem—not anymore, anyways." Director Fury said seriously. The people gathered around the table eyed him curiously.

"Um…Excuse me, sir?" Mortala asked earnestly.

"I am no longer Director Fury. As of right now, this old man is retiring, and Commander Sharon Carter-Rogers is now non-existent. Say hello to your new boss, boys." Fury said, gesturing and extending his hand, to Agent 13, who shook his hand, and took the position that they had arranged for her to take months ago. Fury smirked at the heroes that he had managed to piss off worse than ever before. If Fury was smart, then he wanted them to die on this mission of theirs.

"Ughhh. …So, um, where are _we_ going, exactly…um…ma'am?" Clint asked his new boss, in reluctant resignation.

"All adults in the room—except Fury—will be going where I go, to help me get my son back. We'll be assisting the heroes that are currently en route to the kidnapped children. Also, the transcript and verbatim, of what was talked-about here will be sent to any and all of the hero organizations around the world, and to a few off-planet sites, as well. Let's just hope that those people are feeling helpful today, because if they don't help us, then they'll be helping the enemy just by doing nothing." Director Carter-Rogers said in response.

Clint rolled his eyes. He hated his new boss.

"Blake, Mortala, Spider-Girl, and Spider-Boy, you four will be given your own official briefing, and as such, your mission and its parameters will be significantly different. Stealth is _highly recommended_, but it is _not _required. You four will be investigating—and hopefully acquiring important information from—the few partners that are _here_, in New York City." Director Carter-Rogers said simply, as Fury stood behind her, smiling slightly at his choice of successor. He had chosen well, and it was good thing that he had chosen at _this _time, because he _needed _a break from his _incredibly stressful _life, and being the Director, at a time like this, was a _terrible _idea.

"These '_partners_,' are people that are located _all around _the entire planet, and they have been aiding and assisting these first-planes-beings with their plans. These '_partners_,' are dealing extra-dimensional weaponry, and material, to the villains of the local areas—and to some villains abroad—and they have, until recently, remained _very well hidden_, and almost undetectable. Even now, they seem unafraid of S.H.I.E.L.D., the Avengers, the X-Men, the Fantastic Four, the Young Avengers, or even the Heroes for Hire. There are numerous notorious groups of dealers, traders, suppliers, and defector-double-agents, around the world, that are currently acting as '_partners_,' for the beings of the first-plane of _Hell_. However, the specific '_partners_,' that are here in New York, are working right under our noses, and they have information that _only _certain individuals would have access to." Director Carter explained further. The four teens nodded numbly.

"The fact that the information is _coming from _this specific group of '_partners_,' here in New York, also means that these 'p_artners_' of the first-plane-beings, here in New York, are acting as the _leaders_, to _all _of the '_partners_,' around the globe." Carter continued, allowing them to process her words.

"So, you find them, capture them, and interrogate them, and then we'll have our targets—the targets that, if eliminated properly, could stop, not only the end of the world, but the end of _everything_. There are a few other groups of heroes that will be attacking different '_partners_' around the globe, and as the former Director has stated, any and all of our allies—including those off-world—will be receiving this _entire _briefing, verbatim and word-for-word, and thus, they will be ready to act, the _moment _that things go bad—which they _will_." Director Carter said, and here she was interrupted by Spider-Girl.

"What do you mean that things _will _get bad, Director? Aren't they _already terrible_?" she asked aptly.

"Yes, they are. But they'll get worse. When these '_partners_' of the first-plane-beings—as well as the first-plane-beings themselves, and whoever may be _in-charge_, of this entire conspiracy—learns of our attempts to rescue the children and attack their _main _group of '_partners_,' there _will _be a counter-offensive. And, we _will _be ready. The question, is, will _you_ four?" Director Carter-Rogers asked authoritatively, readying the children for the coming conflicts. The four teens looked to each other, all looking slightly shocked—even though no one knew that Spider-Boy or Spider-Girl had donned these expression due to their masks—and then they, _slowly_, turned back to the Director.

"Everyone besides the four in question, are free to leave, and head to Russia, to assist the heroes that are already en-route to rescue the children. The X-Men have kindly offered us their _newest_, redesigned, X-Jet, which has speeds unmatchable by _any _other vehicle—on _Earth_, at least. Hawkeye, you will take point on this mission to offer backup to the rescuing party for the children. But, _I _will _lead _this mission. On a side-note, Clint and Elektra should note that lethal action is authorized on this assignment—although Elektra has the option of using _other _means to incapacitate her enemies." Director Carter ordered the adults in the room.

Elektra gave the Director a pointed look, before the Director scanned around the room. Elektra was one of the most cold-blooded creatures on Earth. She was a master of any and all martial arts that had originated on Earth—and a few that had originated elsewhere. She was a hero, but she was also a killer, a cruel, efficient, remorseless killer. The _only _reason that she did not kill anymore was due to the fact that it upset her husband and partner—Matthew Murdock, better known as Daredevil. Elektra glanced gently at Matt, and although he was completely blind, he knew that she was glancing at him. She smiled slightly. Elektra wouldn't kill on this mission—not if she could help it, and she could _always _help it.

Director Carter-Rogers nodded to all of the heroes around her. They all nodded in return, and Hawkeye saluted slightly. She was brash, and she was rude. But she was efficient. She was just like Fury. He had chosen well. Hawkeye may not have liked her, but he _did _respect her. After all she had done, the one thing that she _did _deserve was _respect_.

Everyone slowly vacated the room, heading towards the new, improved, X-Jet. This jet would be able to reach the area that the other heroes were already heading to, at almost the same time as them. As they were leaving, Spider-Boy called-out to Director Carter-Rogers.

"Director, why _us_?" Spider-Boy questioned quizzically.

"Because no one knows that you all exist. No one will see you four coming. We _need _to know what they are planning, _without_ them knowing about our intent to know. _Everyone _has underestimated you four—_including _yourselves. But I _know_ better. You all are strong, because you have _faith_, and having faith is having _strength_. You may not believe in yourselves, but you do believe in _me_, and _believe me_, I don't believe you can do this. I _know _that you can. The location, time, and other relevant information regarding your mission, will be waiting for you in the briefing room. Good luck kids, although I _know _that you won't need it." Director Carter said.

She exited the room, without ever turning around. As she left, Director Carter pressed a button on the wall, which saved the message—the same message that had started recorded when Fury had start talking—and it sent the data-message, to all of its intended recipients. It asked for their help. And the Director _hoped _that their help would be enough.

The four teens stayed behind, though.

Mortala's pale vampiric skin shined slightly in the light of the room, and her fangs showed slightly as she shaped her mouth into a thoughtful expression. She was thinking. She was a genius like her father, Doctor Michael Morbius, and when she thought, the repercussions were usually great. Blake's scarily silent demeanor was almost as unnerving as Mortala's expression, as he too, like his own father, was also a certified genius. When he thought, he usually acted soon afterwards, and when he acted, things tended to get _smashed_.

Mortala and Blake were both seventeen years-of-age, both of them _at least _two years of age older than Gerry and Ari—both of whom were freshman in high school, although Gerry was fifteen and Ari was a year younger.

Blake shook his head. "This should be…_interesting_." Blake said suddenly.

Mortala chuckled comically. "That is yet another reason why I should not go. Interesting things attract attention. I prefer staying in the shadows." she said softly.

Blake turned to her, and he raised an eyebrow, fully appraising her for the first time. "Why on Earth would you want to do that? The world needs good things to give it faith, to give it strength. And, trust me, you're a good thing." he said slyly.

Mortala smiled, showing the full shape of her fangs. He smiled I return. "I like your fangs. They're cute." he said sincerely. She blushed slightly, scarlet surging through her cheeks.

"I didn't know that a vampire could blush." he said.

She eyed him seriously, smiling in return. "And I didn't know that highly-destructive rage-monster could be so sweet." she responded.

"It would be impossible to not be sweet to you." Blake defended himself.

"You realize that these '_cute_' fangs could kill someone, even _you_, '_Mr. Anger-Management_,' right?" Mortala countered, her blush receding significantly.

Blake shrugged. "Good way to die." he said, smiling comically at her. Her blush returned.

"Ahem. If you two are done flirting, then we should probably start preparing for the mission." Spider-Girl said suddenly, and the two older teens looked at the two masked spider-family-members, blushing deeply. Ari sighed, and Gerry chuckled.

"I can't believe that the older teens—the ones that will have to lead us and watch us—are two teens with bad rage issues, serious blood-thirst, and uncontrollable hormones." Spider-Boy said sarcastically. Mortala chuckled.

"I can't believe that they decided to put me into the field, when I have had absolutely _no _field experience before." Mortala said, laughing slightly. Gerry and Ari looked to one another. They went wide-eyed—although no one could see it—and then they turned back to the two older teens.

"I can't believe that they decided to put me into the field, when I failed my psychological anger-placement-test—_every single time_ that I have taken it. That's not even mentioning the fact that anger management isn't really working…" Blake said, trailing off.

"On the plus side, though, we have both been tactically taught and trained—_very well_—to do what we need to do to keep us alive." Mortala said.

"In other words, we're trained killers with psychosis, rage issues, blood-thirst, and almost no combined field experience—as I have little field experience myself, because every time I get sent into the field, I usually _destroy _the field." Blake explained.

Spider-Girl and Spider-Boy hung their heads. They were doomed.

Blake, Mortala, Ari, and Gerry all looked at one another. They saw one thing on their faces, and it was something that was far from comforting. It was _fear_, fear of something that they could not control, something that would _fail_: _themselves_.

The four teenage heroes quickly wiped the fear off their faces. They would have time for fear later—if '_later_' actually came at all.

**A/N: Well, I hope that you all enjoyed that chapter. On a side-note, any and all of you, wonderful readers/reviewers, should surely check-out my profile, and see what other of my publicly posted FanFics might interest you! There may be a few. If you have read a book, then the chances are that I have read it as well, and if I have read it, then I'd love to talk about it! Message me, if any of you guys have any questions, or just want to chat, about ANYTHING. I'd love to hear from you! Well, stay tuned for the next update, and please click that subscribe/alert button, if you want the alerts for updates on this story, or simply message me, and ask me to message you every time I update, as I would be HAPPY to do so! So, please R&R, and stay tuned for the next update! **


	3. The Hellish Side of Heaven

**_Disclaimer:_**** I do not own "_Marvel Comics_," or ANYTHING associated with said franchise, movie(s), literature, games, merchandise, or other media.**

**_Accolades/Appreciation:_**** Thanks for all my AWESOME readers/reviewers of this story, for your favorites, subscriptions, reviews, feedback, and generally awesome comments! They are the reasons that this FanFiction continues [to be awesome]. **

**_Important Information:_**** This FanFiction, is-based-on/takes-place-in, the FUTURE, of The "MAIN-MARVEL-Universe," (ONE, Of MANY Universes, In "The MARVEL-MultiVerse"). …And, also, you should all note that ANY AND ALL of the "separate-stories," in this FanFic will eventually TIE-IN TOGETHER, and they will ALL flow chronologically, and in TIME-ORDER, and thus these "events," or "separate-stories," are actually ALL LINKED-TOGETHER, and they ALL happen, IN THE ORDER that they are written/read. Also, PLEASE NOTE, that regardless of how many characters make "Guest-Appearances" here, this story WILL focus on the "Teenage-Team," of OCs that that I have created here (or will create soon-enough)…and it will also focus on their mentors, and the HUGE plot. Also, PLEASE know that any and all of the chapters following this will become WAY MORE READABLE and SHORTER!**

**_Author Announcement(s): _****This is the second update, for this story, that is being posted today. As such, it should be known that a gravely great deal of time has been spent, in writing, rereading, reviewing, revising, and re-writing these two updates. As such, it would make me immeasurably, and HUMBLY, happy to read a review for each chapter, separately, as a lot happens in each chapter. More reviews means more motivation, and more motivation means more time spent on this story. So, please, please, review each update separately.**

**III. The Hellish Side of Heaven**

The '_partners_,' as they referred to themselves were located _all _around Earth. They were incredibly intelligent, and they had finally been located—_almost _all of them. These '_partners_' were aiding and assisting the first-plane-beings in their mission to destroy everything, and they were responsible for feeding information to the ones that had kidnapped the children of some of the world's greatest heroes.

They were swift, strong, smart, and sly. They were one step ahead of the heroes of Earth from the beginning. But now the heroes of Earth were one step ahead of these '_partners_.' At least, the heroes _thought _that they were one step ahead. Some of them, though, couldn't help but wonder why they had just discovered the location of most of these '_partners_,' at _this _particular point in time—the same point in time that the heroes had also discovered the _exact_ location of their kidnapped children. These heroes were about to reunite with their children, but it was not going to be a heavenly reunion. It was going to be hell.

Thor, king of Asgard, knew that. Thor had just received the transcript of the _entire _briefing that Director Carter-Rogers—and the former Director Fury—had just given the heroes in the Helicarrier. This same word-for-word transcript had been sent to many allies of S.H.I.E.L.D. as well. Thor had just finished reading the entire transcript, before the Council of Combat, on Asgard.

Asgard was located in the very center of the middle plane, and the empirical energies and intensely high vitalities there made the bodies of the Asgardians readily, resiliently, recoverable. They weren't able to absorb much of the vast, deep, empirical energies in Asgard—located in the center of the universe. But the little energy that they did absorb was usually concentrated, and due to the absorbing-weapons that bonded with Asgardians—made out of "_sky steel_," also called "_uru_," the metal made of completely solid energy, and the same metal that Thor's Mjölnir was made of.

The weapon of any Asgardian was made out of the energetic s_ky steel_, and it usually had been bonded to the Asgardian's essence, when the weapon was used in combat, as the weapon's energies would merge with the energy of the Asgardian in combat, linking the two.

Thor's wife, Lady Sif, and his children, sat at the head of the long table during the meeting. Thor was currently deciding if he should venture to Earth to help fight this new threat, or if he should put more effort into defending Asgard. His eldest child, Madela, watched him with conviction.

Thor had a duty to the Earth, but he had a larger duty to Asgard. Still, though, he never took his duties lightly. He had a final duty to his family, to protect them. Madela knew that her father would protect her the only way that he knew how; he would prepare her to fight, and when an Asgardian prepared to fight, there was always a fight. She had been taught, trained, and tempered since she could walk. Her weapon had chosen her long ago. Now, she had found her battlefield. Earth.

Madela's black hair wavered slightly as the wicked winter wind blew through the open room in the Council of Combat. Madela glanced over at her two younger twin brothers, their tempers flaring as they both fought over a sword made of s_ky steel_, which was the weapon that they wanted to claim as their own. But weapons claimed the warrior here, not the other way around. Usually Madela would intervene in her brothers' antics, but right now she was far too entranced in the argument taking place at the far end of the hall—the argument that her father, her mother, and a number of other great Asgardians were debating, regarding Thor's responsibilities, and the actions that he should take.

Madela had been pushed, prodded, and provoked since she was young, and she had always been told to do _better_. She was the daughter of two of Asgard's greatest warriors, and she was _never _good enough for them. Today, though, she would be _better _than good enough for the two of them. Today, hopefully, she would be good enough for _herself_.

"Father, I formally and humbly request that you put your obligation to Asgard above your obligation to Earth, and put your obligation to your family above your obligation to Asgard. Placing me in a dangerous environment is the only way to ensure that I will be able to function correctly in combat, the only way to ensure that I am_ protected_. I request that you send _me _to Earth, to assist their heroes in repelling this new threat." Madela formally requested, as her father and mother turned around and shockingly started at her. Both of her parents' eyes narrowed, in deep focus.

Madela's brutal blue eyes met her father's own commanding eyes. It was a battle of gods. Asgardians were aliens, and the early form of humankind had mistaken them for gods; that had been proven false long ago, but regardless, they were still gods on a battlefield.

"Madela, you are—" her mother began, but Thor raised his hand, silencing his wife, silencing Lady Sif. Sif turned to her husband, her dark hazel hair creating chaos around her as she did so. No one dared to silence Lady Sif, and that included her husband. But she let it slide. She wanted to hear what he had to say. He would pay for it later.

Thor smirked at his daughter. Perhaps, today, for once, she was good enough for him—although apparently not good enough for her mother.

"Very well, dear daughter—on _two _conditions." Thor relented.

Madela nodded obediently and smiled slightly. "What are the conditions, father?" she inquired intricately, afraid of the possible responses.

"You shall not die. If you do, I will kill you." he said. Then he smiled. Thor rarely smiled at her. She had decided long ago that she liked when he smiled at her, and she had wished that he had smiled at her as often as others smiled at their offspring.

"…And, the second one?" she asked aptly.

"Punch Tony Stark for me. I owe him one—a _big _one. You get the honor of making the arrogant ass bleed. Of course, you must remember that he can give as well as he can take, and he can take a punch from _me_." Thor said. Madela smiled for the first time in a long time.

"Very well, father. I shall not fail you." Madela said happily, excusing herself from the table and heading to the weapons room to gather her weapon—the weapon that had chosen her, the weapon that wade her _whole_.

Her weapon was, like every other Asgardian weapon, made entirely of _sky steel_, the metal made of complete energy, the same metal that Thor's Mjlönir was made of. Her weapon had been bonded to her in an earlier conflict, with minions of the evil chaos-creator, Thanos, when she was nine years-of-age. Her weapon was a tall, thin hammer, like her father's own weapon, but it was built for _speed_, _not _strength. Her hammer also detached into two, _small_, hammers, which is the form that she had _always _carried the weapon in.

Minions of Thanos were _easy _enemies for _any _Asgardian to handle, although Thanos _himself_, could take-on _all _of the Avengers. These minions were not acting on orders, and they had wanted vengeance from an earlier conflict that they had fought—and lost—against the Avengers. Madela had _rarely _been to Earth, but Earth _was _her home. It was where her weapon had bonded with her.

The spark of the energy, from the weapon, had merged with her own empirical energies when she had been forced to be better than her enemy. A minion had her cornered, and the small girl, although extremely well-trained, was at the end of her stamina, sustenance, and strength. Asgardians were _extremely amazingly durable_—even _without _their weapon boosting their abilities—but, the amazing strengths of the minions of Thanos were enough to break-down their defenses rather quickly.

Madela was going to die if she did not kill her opponent, but to be _better _than her enemy—to be the person that she wanted to be, the person that she _needed _to be—she had to have beaten her enemy, _without _killing him. She did, but the attack that she had used required her to escape her enemy's clutches rather quickly, and then flank and counter him from the back, thus rendering him incapacitated. This attack required _superior speed_, and Madela would not have had this speed, had her faithful weapon not answered her body's call, and merged its own empirical energy with the empirical energy that Madela had been emitting.

Her weapon was built for _speed_, and it was a weapon that could _act _as _quickly_ as she could _think_. It _completed _her, just as her father's hammer completed him. And, like every other Asgardian, when she came into physical contact with her bonded weapon, it increased her own strength, speed, and sensibility by a factor of _at least_ ten.

Madela reached the sacred weapons-room of the _Temple of War_ in the main city of Asgard. She opened the door, gingerly, gracefully, and she stepped inside, exhaling as she did so. She loved coming in here.

She went over to the main case of weapons at the center of the room, the case that held the chosen weapons for the royal family of Asgard. She looked into the case. Her hammer was there, in the single glass case beneath the two directly above it—the cases designed to hold her parents' weapons. Her mother's sword was there. Her father's hammer was missing. He _always _had it on him. She smirked somewhat. Even without the hammer, he was more-than-ready for a fight.

Madela opened her case, and she retrieved her thin hammer, detaching it into two separate hammers as she did so, and sheathing them on her back, on her midsection, in their respective holders on her black-and-gold battle uniform. The power that the weapon gave her, simply from being on her person, surged through her immediately. She closed her eyes and exhaled again. She loved that feeling. It meant a fight was coming, and she _loved _fights. It was the only thing that she did not _hate_.

"It's time to go to work, _Sÿrinia_. It's time to have some fun." Madela said deviously, talking to her beloved hammer-halves, named for their speed.

Madela exited the room, and she came across her two younger brothers standing there, their young amber eyes and blonde hair looking depressingly downcast.

Madela narrowed her eyes at the boys. "What?" she asked suddenly.

They both looked up at her. "Father says that this new threat will take _all _of Earth's heroes to even _begin _to repel it. He did not mean for us to hear that, but we did." her brother, Thane, spoke, before her other brother, Thale, finished on his behalf.

"So, you don't have to go, do you? You are not a hero of Earth. You are a hero of Asgard. You must stay _here_, and help defend your home." Thale finished for his brother.

Madela smiled slightly at her brothers. They were the only members of her family, whose expectation she actually did meet. They were also the only two that she actually _liked_.

"Thane, Thale, I _must _go. Earth _is _my home, just as much as Asgard is my home. It is where I became _whole_, where I was bonded with '_Syrinia_.' I must go and fight for it. I must go and _defend _it." Madela explained. The two boys looked at the ground and nodded.

"Just don't die, okay?" Thale asked her. She was taken aback.

She smiled at her brothers. "We all know that I'm too stubborn to die." Madela said earnestly. The boys chuckled, smiles finally crossing their faces. "Tell you what, when I get back, I'll teach you how to use '_Sÿrinia_,' for _more _than just self-defense." she said sincerely. The two boys beamed up at her. "Sounds good?" she asked.

"_Yes_! Thanks, Maddie!" they both said in unison. They launched themselves at her, and she hugged them back. She finally released them, smiled at them, and then left the corridor, her smile turning into one of a warrior, of a _killer_. Earth would _not _fall. She would stop Earth from falling, even if that was only because she would have to be the one to use her dead corpse to be the only support that remained for the wavering world.

* * *

><p>Scott Summers, known keenly as <em>Cyclops<em>, looked at the data on the main computer in the X-Mansion. Scott was the current leader of the X-Men, the superhero group that took-in young mutants, and trained them to do good, to be heroes. He focused on the message on the computer. He had read it, reread it, and read it again. He narrowed his eyes, cleverly concealed behind his specter shades.

It was the transcript of the briefing that Fury and Carter had given the heroes on the Helicarrier. He sighed as Emma Frost, his long-time girlfriend and current fiancée, entered the room.

She walked up behind him, and he didn't even bother to turn around before addressing her.

"Call up _all _teams. Tell them that they _all _have assignments. And hurry." Scott ordered. Emma quickly read the computer screen, and then she hurried to follow the order. She usually had something to argue about, but this time she was silent. This time, it was serious.

* * *

><p><em>The Thing<em>, also known as Ben Grimm, read the data on the secure screen of the main computer of the_ Baxter Building_, the main headquarters for the Fantastic Four.

He shook his head and read it again. He couldn't believe that Reed or Sue didn't even call him. They were going to rescue _his _nephew, too, after all. Ben wanted to crush something. He let it go, though, because he knew that they were _all _under _tremendous _pressure and stress. So, instead, he read the message again. Still, though, the meeting that had briefed the heroes on where to go, to rescue the children had taken place inside the Baxter Building, the building that he was currently standing in. The only reason that Ben had not been present was because he and his niece were out shopping, and signing autographs—at least he was.

Suddenly a door opened behind him, and he niece, the youngest child of Johnny Storm, walked into the room. Her fire-red hair and her ember eyes showed her frustration as she silently walked-up behind her rock-like uncle, read the screen, screamed, read it again, and then ignited her entire body, and torched half of the room. Ben was glad that he was fireproof.

Jennifer Storm, younger sister of Jacob Storm, did not have a very nice temper—which was something that her best friend, Ari Parker, had learned to deal with a while ago. No one else outside of her family really had that kind of patience—or bravery.

Jenny flew up and out of the nearest window, still on fire—_literally_—and then she flew back a few moments later, glaring at her uncle Ben.

Ben looked up at her. "_What_…?" he asked his fourteen-year-old niece carefully.

"Aren't you coming?" she answered with a question.

"Coming where?" he asked in return.

"To help the idiot asses that never asked for our help!" she exclaimed. Ben winced. Jenny was a pretty girl—with an ugly vocabulary.

"Yeah, yeah, hold your horses '_Fire-Cracker_.'" Ben said, as he was shutting down the computer, and getting ready. Just as the two were about to leave, the wall to the left of the two exploded open, and an angry, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, woman burst through the door. It was Valeria Richards, the middle-child of Reed Richards and Susan Storm.

Her enforced elastic costume, in dark violet and black, held the symbol of harpies' wings, both tilted at an angle almost perpendicular to one another, making the shape of a "_V_" on her chest, indicating the symbol of her hero-alias, _Valkyrie_. The two swords on her back were reinforced with vibranium, the alien-metal that was the impure, vibration-absorbing, form of adamantium. Vibranium was one of the _few _metals that Valeria's telekinesis could _not _effect, and she used that to her advantage in combat.

Ben and Jenny looked at one another, and then back to Valeria. She was a strange sight. Valeria _never _came home. She and her older brother, Franklin, had not had _any sort _of good relationship with their parents. Valeria, and Franklin, Richards had not come home, since the incident that had made Franklin sacrifice his powers to allow Ghost Rider to reverse Mephisto's handiwork, which indirectly gave Peter Parker and Mary Jane their lost memories back, and allowed their crushed marriage to succeed this time-around.

The fact that _Valkyrie_, as Valeria was now known, was _here_, meant that she was willing to sacrifice her own happiness, her own beliefs, to save the beliefs of others, to save Jacob Storm. Valeria _never _sacrificed _anything_, unless she was _sure_ that it was _worth_ it, and she had _long-ago_ reasoned that _she _was worth it, which meant that her mother and father, although she hated them, were worth it as well, as they were a part of her. Valeria's sister, Sarah Richards, was also worth it, and Sarah had ventured out on this mission with her two parents as well.

Valeria had obviously come here, because she believed that they were in mortal danger—even though they _believed _that they knew what they were up against. Valeria obviously believed that her parents did _not _know the entire story, and were _severely _underestimating their enemies. Valeria was a certified genius at the age of six, so if she believed something, then she probably _knew _it, as well.

Jenny lifted into the air again, as her mother, Kourtney Storm, ran into the room, her red hair in tangles, and her sullen expression changed into one of surprise. "Is it true?" she asked the three people before her.

The three heroes looked to each other, and then back to Kourtney. They all nodded.

"Well, don't just stand there! Go and _get _him! Go get my son!" she yelled, and the three smiled and nodded, as Valeria teleported across the room, grabbed her uncle under his rock-like shoulders, and then teleported away, and into the New York night air, heading to the Helicarrier, hovering above the city.

"And, Jenny?" Kourtney addressed her daughter, as Jenny prepared to leave, floating up to the high window above her.

"_Yeah_?" Jenny answered her mom.

"Make sure that _both _of my children come back _alive_. You hear me?" she said sternly. Jenny smiled and nodded.

"Everything is on the main computer, mom." Jenny said, flying off into the night sky.

Kourtney sighed very deeply as Jenny left the building. She then walked over to the computer, turned it on, and read the entire data-message. Then she read it again.

From the night air, a battle-cry rang-out. "It's clobberin' time!" Ben said loudly, meaning every word. No one attacked his family—and lived.

* * *

><p>Daniel Murdock-Natchios sighed as he entered his two-story apartment, from the unlocked second-story window. The fourteen-year-old heard only silence. That was an odd thing for him to hear. He took off his mask and set it down on the hallway table that he passed as he made his way to the top of the stairs. He got to the main landing at the top of the stairs, and he heard something—a heartbeat. It was a heartbeat that he recognized—his girlfriend's heartbeat. The heartbeat was fast—almost too fast.<p>

Daniel's eyes—his experienced, enigmatic, bluntly _blind_, eyes—went wide, as he raced down the stairs.

Daniel quickly leapt downstairs, flipping flawlessly over the banister, and drawing two steel sai from his dark-grey utility belt as he did so. His superior senses were working in overtime.

Daniel leapt into the living room, and a familiar scent hit his nose. Rachel's shampoo.

She was sitting on the couch, looking at a picture of Daniel and his younger sister.

Daniel's milky midnight eyes turned to her, his dark brown hair wavering as he did so.

"You…you're alright." he stated, shockingly, as he sheathed his sai.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Yeah, of course I'm okay. Even a blind man could see that." Rachel said teasingly, as she made her way off the couch, to her boyfriend, kissing him on the lips.

His lips smirked against her own as they kissed. She broke away, and he smiled at her. "Know what else the blind guy can see? I can see that the '_All-American-Girl_,' Rachel Rogers, herself, can't help throwing herself at her sexy ninja boyfriend." Daniel said jokingly.

"Careful. I'm not here to fight you. For once, we're on the same side, so count yourself lucky. For once, you're going to be fighting _with _me, not against me, which means that you actually have a chance of winning." Rachel said, smiling as she did so.

Rachel Rogers was an average American teenager, aside from the fact that she had mastered almost any and all martial arts on the planet—the same amount that her boyfriend had mastered—and that she was next-in-line to lead the Young Avengers. Her honey-brown hair, tied-up in a ponytail, and her bright blue eyes were a perfect mixture of her parents' traits.

"Well, what are we fighting _for_?" Daniel asked her intricately. Rachel smiled and handed him a few pieces of paper that had bumps on them. It was a message—in Braille.

"It's a transcript—verbatim, _word-for-word_—of the briefing that was given by the _former _Director Fury and the _current _Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., _my mom_. The transcript was then encoded and sent to my house. Read it." Rachel commanded.

Daniel smiled. "You translated it into Braille? For me?" he asked, smiling slightly.

"Of course I did! How else are you going to read it?!" she asked exasperatingly. Daniel pecked her on the cheek.  
>He did as he was told and read the entire message, his fingers gently brushing over the bumps.<p>

"Well?" Rachel asked after he had finished. Daniel now knew the reason that Rachel's heartbeat was quicker than normal. Her brother was coming home.

Daniel narrowed his eyes, as he raced upstairs, and grabbed his mask. He jumped out of his second-story window, becoming his alter-ego, _Shadow Spawn_. Rachel rolled her eyes, and she quickly shed her outer clothing, revealing the sliver-and-red uniform underneath. She grabbed her mask from her back pocket and donned it, becoming _Captain Chaos_.

She raced upstairs, after her boyfriend, quickly exiting his apartment and jumping from rooftop to rooftop. She saw where he was heading—the nearest teleportation site, a site that would lead them to the Helicarrier.

* * *

><p>Jennifer Storm and her uncle, Ben Grimm, blasted through the doors of the briefing room, in the Helicarrier. Four teenage heroes eyed them expectantly.<p>

Mortala Morbius, Blake Banner, Spider-Boy, and Spider-Girl, all, warily watched the two newcomers. Ari smiled under her mask, as she saw her best friend.

Valeria Richards, known as _Valkyrie_, ran in after Jennifer and her uncle.

"Where—" Valeria started, but Spider-Girl cut her off.

"The adult heroes are all in the air hangar, boarding the X-Jet as we speak. If you two hurry, then you should be able to catch them before they take off. They're heading over to Russia, to help rescue the kidnapped kids." Spider-Girl explained quickly, addressing Valkyrie and The Thing. Valkyrie and The Thing nodded, both hurrying off in the direction of the air hangar.

Jennifer Storm, her entire body still ablaze, floated over to her best friend.

"Okay… Well, since we're all here, now, I suppose that we should get going." Jenny said suddenly.

"Hold on there, Fire-Cracker. If I'm right—and I'm right ninety-nine-point-nine-eight percent of the time—then there should be two more heroes that should be arriving…right…about…now." Spider-Boy said, sure of himself. Just as he finished talking, Shadow Spawn and Captain Chaos sprinted into the room.

Spider-Boy smirked under his mask.

"What'd we miss?" Captain Chaos asked fanatically, her heart-rate much quicker than normal.

Spider-Girl raised an eyebrow under her mask. "Um, did you guys run here? Or are you two out of breath for _another _reason?" Spider-Girl asked suggestively.

Beneath their masks, Daniel and Rachel blushed heavily.

"Ahem." Mortala cleared her throat, as the teens looked to her and Blake. Mortala and Blake were the tallest, smartest, and oldest of the group. But they were also the most inexperienced.

"We have our mission, and now we have our location. The Bronx is where we're all heading. _That _is where the '_partners_,' that are acting as _leaders_ to all of the other '_partners_,' are located. We have simple orders. Converge, confront, combat, and capture the targets—without _any _casualties, and _without _incident. Understood?" Blake said, assuming command. Everyone nodded.

"Also, it should be noted, that while Blake and I are the oldest—and most intelligent—among you all, we are the _least _experienced. Thusly, we will lead as best as we can, but we will keep ourselves _out_ of the action, unless our added firepower is absolutely necessary." Mortala added, securing her place as second-in-command.

Everyone nodded, and they all prepared for their mission.

* * *

><p>Erika Kostas Murdock-Natchios unconsciously stuck her tongue out of her mouth, as she continued to struggle against her opponent. She gradually gripped her opponent's hand harder and harder. The four-year-old child was deep in focus, as she continued to arm-wrestle with her opponent—her best friend, Mikkela Michelle Barton-Romanova. The two girls sat there, struggling against each other, as they continued to arm-wrestle, neither gaining any ground on the other. Their arms stayed—locked at the elbows—unmoving on the cold metal table in the center of the room.<p>

Mikkela's older brother finally sighed, and he flailed his arms in the air. "Alright, already! You two are _even_! I mean, c'mon! We've been here for almost an _hour_! Let's do something _else_!" the five-year-old, named Dimitri, said to his sister and her friend. The two girls swiftly spun their heads around to face him, Mikkela's dark-red hair, and Erika's dark black hair whipping around as they did so. Erika's amber eyes, and Mikkela's dark eyes, bore two invisible holes through Dimitri's head. He stayed silent. The girls turned back to each other and continued their competition.

Dimitri stepped back, his dark brown hair wavering as he shook his head. "Girls." he muttered under his breath.

The two girls seemed to ignore him, as they continued to struggle against each other.

"Hey, I've got an idea. Let's go spy on the adults." Dimitri suggested, and this time, the two girls turned towards him, and they both released their hands. The two girls got up, and they quickly headed for the exit of the daycare-detention-center of the Helicarrier. The three children were stopped short, though.

Two red-haired women entered the room, blocking the way of the three children. Mary Jane Watson-Parker and Pepper Stark, her arc-reactor on her chest glowing intensely, walked into the room, both of them carrying little children.

The four-year-old boy in Mary Jane's hands was her son, Benjamin "Benny" Parker. The four-year-old girl in Pepper's hands was Lily Howlett, the daughter of James "Logan" Howlett and Heather Howlett.

The two children that the two women were carrying quickly jumped down from their guardians' grasps.

"Hey guys!" Benny said happily, his boyish brown hair and hazel eyes seeming genuinely joyful as he spoke.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Why are you always so happy? The world might be ending, and my brother might die—and I haven't even met him yet!" Lily snapped, her black eyes and black hair making her dark demeanor seem more hostile.

Erika, Mikkela, and Dimitri all backed away from her slightly. Benny did not.

"Hey! I've never seen my sister either! I want to meet her, too, y'know! I'm happy, because the alternative is being a grumpy mean old fart—just like your dad! Why are you always so mean, anyways? Were you _born _with a foot up your a—" Benny started, but his mother cut him off.

"Benjamin Richard Parker!" Mary Jane said, scolding her son. He stopped speaking, sulking as he did so.

"Sorry mom." he said sorrowfully.

Lily smirked. "Such a momma's boy." she commented.

Benny eyed her angrily. "At least I'm not a daddy's girl!" he retorted. She simply shrugged.

"At least I own it!" she replied. The two toddlers assumed fighting stances.

A knife flew right past the two angry children, embedding itself in the wall behind them. Everyone turned to look at the person that had thrown the knife—Erika.

She smiled shyly. "Sorry. Mommy said only to use that when it was an emergency. It looked like one to me!" she said happily. Now, it was Lily and Benny that took a step back from her.

"Hey! I've got an idea for a new game! Let's fight! Team battle!" Mikkela said excitedly. Her brother, Dimitri, nodded in agreement.

Lily and Benny turned to each other, both smirking as they did so. "Alright guys. Me and Benny are on a team. You three are on the other team." Lily said deviously.

"Lily! That's not fair!" Benny protested.

Erika slowly counted the members of each team. "Yeah! You guys are short one member! It's not fair for you!" Erika exclaimed.

Benny and Lily looked at each other. "I don't think that you understood me. It's not fair for _you three_." Benny clarified.

"Oh, we'll see." Erika and Mikkela said in unison. Erika drew two sharpened blades, and Mikkela extended her retractable bow, reaching under her shirt for an arrow. Dimitri unsheathed a middle-length blade.

Lily popped her bone claws, as they protruded straight through her knuckles—just like her father. Benny webbed his fists.

Pepper and Mary Jane looked at each other, worriedly. "Um…MJ, I think we may have volunteered for the most dangerous job, out of all of the heroes!" Pepper said anxiously.

Mary Jane nodded in agreement. Babysitting these young children, while their parents saved the world, was not going to be easy. "Um, hey guys! How about I use the dusty old kitchen on this old ship and whip us up a couple of pies, instead!" Mary Jane said, trying to get the lethal toddlers to calm down.

"Yeah!" the kids said in unison, putting their weapons away.

"Aw man! I wanted to maim someone!" Lily complained.

"I'll let you put the frosting on!" Mary Jane said to Lily.

"Sweet! Thanks Misses Parker!" Lily said, rushing ahead of the others, as they ran towards the kitchen on the Helicarrier.

Before the two red-haired women could follow the children, another woman entered the room, blocking their exit. This third woman had turquoise eyes and brown hair. She was also carrying a toddler as well.

"Betty, you're late." Mary Jane said seriously.

Betty Ross-Banner sighed in response. "I know. But, missy here, decided to throw a little temper tantrum before we left home." Betty explained, gesturing to her daughter in her hands.

Pepper and Mary Jane exchanged a look. Bethany Banner was a sweet child, but she had her father's temper. Betty was one of the few people that could deal with that.

"Well, we were about to bake some pies. The other kids are already in the kitchen." Pepper said happily.

"Oh cool! Can I put the icing on? Please?" Bethany asked excitedly, her five-year-old amber eyes seeming to bounce in rhythm with her dark brown hair.

"Lily already called it. Sorry, honey." Mary Jane said, apologetically.

"Not if I can help it!" Bethany said, trying to get out of her mother's grasp.

Bethany struggled out of her mother's grip, and ran towards the kitchen. The three looked at each other and sighed. They had the most dangerous job, indeed.

* * *

><p>The plane rocketed through the sky, as its heroes onboard noticed <em>nothing <em>of its extreme turbulence. The turbulence in their own minds was far too much for them to notice much else.

All of the heroes were in there uniforms, costumes, or suits, and they all hid their faces with their masks—even the two teenage girls. But, even though their faces were hidden, their emotions were readily visible. The plane had been gutted to create a large cargo area for the heroes to be able to stand, and deploy, proficiently from.

Ghost Rider looked to Iron Man, then to Human Torch, and then to Spiderman. The flames that were encircling his skull wavered slightly as he did so. He sighed very deeply. "I suppose that if you three aren't going to crack any jokes, then this situation is far too grave, even for you three to make light of it." he commented suddenly.

The heroes in question looked to each other, and then back to Ghost Rider.

"There is nothing funny here." they all said in unison.

"Leave 'em alone, Rider. You may have been to hell, but they're all there _right _now." Wolverine said, defending their attitudes.

Spiderman gave Wolverine a knowing glance. The wolf responded without words or actions. But Peter knew what the response was. Logan was the only one allowed to kill the spider. Under his mask, Peter smiled slightly. Spiderman sighed deeply as he thought of his daughter, and he sighed even deeper as he thought of his two other children, Benny and Ari.

He wondered what Ari would think when she came home from her patrols with her Aunt Anya. Anya. She may as well have been Peter's sister-by-blood. She had always acted like it. It felt wrong to be going to rescue Penny without Anya and Ari. They _deserved _to be here. But this wasn't their job. It was _his_. He was Penny's father. She was _his _responsibility, not theirs. And she wasn't the first responsibility that he had failed to uphold.

Peter had been to hell—_literally_—and he had fought the first-plane-being, the _demon_, Mephisto with his bare hands, when he had _no _powers. He knew what hell was. But this was different. This was worse. Peter was never able to live up to what he _was_. He was never able to be a hero. That was the reason that he had Spiderman. Spiderman was the incorruptible symbol, the immortal, symbol, the unbeatable symbol that everyone knew and loved. Spiderman was _strong_, and he made _others _strong, by giving them _faith_. He could never make Peter Parker strong, though. Peter walked around, always _failing_, where Spiderman succeeded.

Peter could never succeed, because Peter wasn't _alive_. He died the night that Spiderman was born, the night that his Uncle Ben Parker had died. But Peter owed that man his life. He owed Uncle Ben his life, because paying that debt kept Uncle Ben alive in his memories, and he couldn't let Uncle Ben die—or he would have failed the one person that had believed in him, the one person that tied him to this Earth.

He could never repay him, though, because Peter had died that night, too. So he created Spiderman to pay the debt for him. And, so, the hero's career had begun. The spider-bite that had given him his amazing arachnid abilities just gave him another weapon in his fight against crime—against _himself_. Peter's mind was still his deadliest weapon.

Spiderman was able to do what Peter could not—take a dire situation, and make it _winnable_. His comedy wasn't a maturity problem. His comedy was a defense mechanism, a defense from the dire and pathetic life of Peter Parker, and from the terrible occurrences that always seemed to befall Spiderman. Spiderman couldn't laugh now, though. There was nothing funny here.

Years later, after losing his powers multiple times and saving the day with only his mind and body at his disposal, after regaining them, after being trained in over 200 different martial arts, after traveling to hell and back, and after fighting with Logan—the latter of which was the hardest, by far—Peter Parker had finally begun to realize that he _was _still alive, but just barely. Now, his daughter had been taken. His daughter was one of the _few _parts of himself that kept him alive, that kept his _family _alive. He had to rescue her. He couldn't fail her. He refused to fail. Not this time.

Spiderman swiftly scanned the heroes around him. Mr. Fantastic and Invisible Woman were off to one side constantly scanning a map of the area that they were going to assault on the ground. Iron Man walked over to join them. Human Torch was joined by Ghost Rider at his side, and the two just stood there, the flames emanating from around both heroes seeming to dance in alliance. His company was enough, though; Peter could tell. Heather Howlett, known as Fatal Feral, and Black Cat—Penny Parker's mother—were standing opposite Ghost Rider and Human Torch, and they were conversing lightly.

Black Widow and Captain America were piloting the plane, up front, so Peter could not visually assess the two super-soldiers. Finally, Peter glanced at Sarah and Kellina, both of which were some distance away from their fathers, and both were conversing silently. Peter raised an eyebrow behind his mask, but he said nothing.

Wolverine walked over to Spiderman, and he stopped at his side, glancing slightly at his wife, as Heather returned the glance. Logan said nothing. That was enough.

James "Logan" Howlett was an interesting character. He was smarter than most men on the planet. He thought like an unbeatable genius, but he acted like an uneducated savage. Born with an X-Gene that gave him the abilities of his ancestors—ancestors that had evolved alongside wolves, and mixed their own blood with that of the canines' crimson fluid. This convergent evolution, along with their mixed blood types, gave these ancestors their _dormant _adaptive abilities, including their bodies' ability to heal against its greatest foreign enemy—against _itself_.

When Logan had been born, the abilities of his brutal bloodline were strongest in him, and his healing factor could fight off disease, bodily injury, and even mutilation, healing itself in a matter of minutes—_at most_. Logan was also born with inherent, sharp, canine super-senses, as well as superior strength, speed, and agility, as compared to even the best-trained solider.

Logan's abilities did not manifest—not _fully_—until his _biological_ father, Thomas Logan—the groundskeeper of the rich family that Logan had been born into—came back to the manor that he had been fired from and killed Logan's "father." Logan would not know, until later, that the man that had killed his "father" was his true birthfather, and he would not care. Logan erupted in rage, and he slaughtered the man right at that moment. Afterwards, his mother banished him from the estate, and she later killed herself—an action that was the fault of Logan, by his own view.

That was the moment that James "Logan" Howlett became Wolverine. Logan would sacrifice any and all of his supposed morals, so he could _save _the morals of others. Logan had been told that he had no soul—even by Ghost Rider, himself. But he did save every other soul he came upon—if it was logical to do so. Logan realized that his family was dead after his mother had died, and as such, he had nothing tying him to this world, thus his life had no point—and it _needed _a point. So Logan made a point to his life.

That point was to save other lives. He had given up his soul the moment that he had killed Thomas Logan, but later, he would learn—from the samurai that had taught, trained, and tested him during his time in Japan, after his years as a soldier—that Logan hadn't wasted his soul; he had _given _it to the people that needed one. He had stared a war, a war against the mentality of superiority, against evil itself. He fought against those that put themselves against others, because equality was not earned; it was inherent.

Those that unbalanced the equality of the world, made the world harder to live in, and that made life pointless. And Logan _needed _life to have a point, so he fought for that point, fought against evil, against those that thought that they were superior. He enlisted, and he served as a Canadian solder in World War II. He then lived in Japan, where he was taught, trained, and tempered, for many years, learning the way of the samurai, the sword, and the soul. There, he developed his reason for life, his reason for _killing_. Then he was captured by Weapon-X, the program that had wanted him to fight _with _the people he had been fighting his war against.

So, there, in Weapon-X, Logan was forced to fight against himself; he did not win, but he did not lose, either. Afterwards, he became the weapon that they had wanted him to be, but he did not fight for them. He fought against them.

He fought with the X-Men. He fought with the Avengers. He fought with the Heroes for Hire. He fought with Spiderman. He fought against Spiderman. The spider and the wolf disagreed _severely _on the ways that they fought evil, crime, and corruption. They disagreed on _many _things. But the one thing that they _did _agree on, was that crime, evil, and corruption _needed _to be fought.

"You know, they'll be fine. They're our kids, after all." Wolverine said suddenly.

"I know. That's what I'm worried about." Spiderman said in response.

Logan took a flask out of his suit's utility belt. Spiderman looked at, eyed him, and then shook his head.

"To Ben Parker and Elizabeth Howlett." he said, taking a swig of the bitter alcoholic liquid. He handed the flask to Spiderman.

The spider stared at the container for a while. Peter didn't drink. Not anymore. But he wasn't Peter. He was Spiderman. He raised the lower portion of his mask up and took a swig of it. "Ughh. Saki?" Spiderman questioned quizzically.

Wolverine shrugged. "Japanese delicacy." he defended.

"Japanese poison." Spiderman amended. Logan smirked slightly. He _hated _the jokes of the web-head, but the fact that he had cracked one at all meant that Logan was getting through. He hated Peter, but he respected him just as much.

"We'll finish the rest, when we get the kids back." Logan said, sure of himself. Spiderman nodded. He was now sure of himself, too.

Across the room, Kellina and Sarah continued their conversation.

"Look, I can kill, but I won't make the call. I'll take the shot, but not make the call." Kelly said surely, her eyes narrowed behind her darkened shatter-proof shades.

Sarah raised an eyebrow at her counterpart. "And you want _me_ to make the call?" Sara asked incredulously. Kellina nodded.

Sarah chuckled darkly. "Yeah, right, that's a brilliant idea. You are _way more _suited to make those calls, than I am. I don't kill, Kelly. I value life—_every _life." Sarah countered, rolling her eyes behind her darkened goggles, as she fixed her mouth into a frown behind her mask.

Kelly smirked beneath her half-a-mask that covered her lips. "That, my friend, is why _you _should be the one making those life-and-death calls on this mission. I _don't _value life. I _can't _value something that I have _never _experienced. I was pronounced legally dead, at birth, and even though it was a legal lie, I _did_ die. I died the moment that I started killing. Thus, I don't value life, and this mission requires _discretion _regarding that matter. _That _is why I need _you _to make those calls. You underestimate yourself too much. You may not kill, but you do _survive_, and do that _very well_. You value life, including my own, and that is why I know that you won't waste it. When we enter the facility, we'll both charge straight for the captives—for my brother, and for your cousin—and we'll free them, or _fight_ them if we have to. The moment that we have them subdued, we'll turn them, and use their help to aid us in the ensuing fight—or we'll make it so that the adults do _not _have to fight their own children, one way or another. In that instance, though, I need to be _acting_, without worrying about implications. I need _you _to make those calls, to _take charge_." Kelly retorted.

Sarah shook her head. "You have _far _more field experience than I do. You are far better suited to lead." she replied.

Kelly smirked again. "I have more field experience, yes, but that is why I am far more suited to _act_, and _follow _orders, rather than give them. You, on the other hand, have been watching your parents for quite some time, watching them lead, think, and command their way to victory. You've been trained, taught, and tested, to be victorious in almost any situation—even, or rather especially, _unwinnable _ones. Your father is the _smartest _man on the planet! You're the better candidate to lead me—me, and whatever members of the five captured children will actually turn and help us fight." Kelly explained.

Sarah sighed. "Fine. I'll call the shots, but you better not argue with a _single one_. You asked for this." she answered shortly.

Kellina chuckled slightly. "I won't challenge your orders. I'll only complain about them." Kelly said sincerely.

Sarah narrowed her eyes at her partner. "Rash little hothead." she said simply.

Kellina smiled in return. "Nerd." she replied.

"Damn straight." Sarah commented. Both girls smiled slightly, before their smiles vanished in a flash of ferocity. The killer and the survivor became lost in their own thoughts, readying themselves for what came next. But they never truly would be ready for what came next.

* * *

><p>The man stared at the computer screen, altering any and all of the data that his subordinates had sent him. His subordinates were the '<em>partners<em>,' that had been aiding and assisting the first-plane-beings, better-known as _demons_. But these '_partners_' were this man's _subordinates_, nonetheless. And they would all die without ever knowing that they had _served _him, been his inferior—and _never_ his equal.

The man smiled sinisterly as his plan fell perfectly into place. He then smiled wider as the door behind him opened, and a woman walked through—the _only _being that was his _true_ equal. He and this woman, _both_, were _extremely _well-trained, and they were physically tempered, taught, and tested, _beyond_ the limits of even the best heroes or villains. Yet, their minds were still their deadliest weapons.

She slyly wrapped her arms around his neck, as he sat in his large armchair in front of his computer. His dark eyes scanned the information again. He chuckled this time. Heroes. Such a dead term. And soon, they would be dead bodies. '_How glorious_.' he thought to himself.

"You know what's funny?" she asked.

"What's that?" he answered, placing his hands on her arms.

"The fact that I have _all _of this…_control_…and I still want someone _on top _of me." she said seductively.

He laughed. "Please, dear, you will distract me from my current task. And it requires _all _of my attention." he said semi-sternly.

"I _know _that I will." she relied.

He chuckled throatily. "You're evil." he replied.

"I know that too. It's why I'm _here_, with _you_." she said, placing her lips on his neck. He shuddered inside, but he showed no reaction on the outside. She knew that the reaction was there, though.

"Doc Ock, Romulus, Doctor Doom, Red Skull, Kingpin, Magneto, Mephisto, '_The One_,' and even that idiot Loki, have _all _reported-in. Everything is going according-to-plan. The heroes are all mobilized, and S.H.I.E.L.D.—and its allies—are all planning to launch their massive _first-strike_, as we speak. The '_partners_' are _all _ready. Now, all we have left to do, is _wait_. You have _no_ task requiring _any _energy, except the one requiring _me _to be present." the woman said softly into his ear. He smiled.

"I'll be in, in a minute, dearest. I just need to check something." he said. She got up, and left his side.

"I'll be waiting." she said, as she left the room, the door closing behind her.

The man smiled as he reviewed the data one last time. Yes, this time, there was no option but success. Success for them. And failure for the heroes.

Soon, the heroes would see the hellish side of heaven.

**A/N: Please review, and let me know what you liked! Also, PLEASE know that any and all of the chapters following this will become WAY MORE READABLE and SHORTER! Stay tuned for the next update!**


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